All For One and One For All
by lackadaisical meandering
Summary: Madeleine is the only daughter to the wealthy and aristocratic Monsieur de Bonnefoy and Alfred is a young, promising musketeer, but when she is kidnapped, is his immediate liking to her something more? The Captain doesn't think so. Ame/Fem!Can
1. Act I

_**All for One and One for All**_

**Summary**: Madeleine is the only daughter to the wealthy and aristocratic Monsieur de Bonnefoy and Alfred is a young musketeer, but when she is kidnapped, is his immediate liking to her something more? The Captain doesn't think so. Ame/Fem!Can

**Warnings**: Lovina and Gilbert and their potty mouths

**A/N:** So, believe it or not, this story was originally supposed to be a one-shot. Obviously, it turned into something more…anyway, enjoy!

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><p><strong>Act I, Scene I<strong>

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><p>"What do you think the Captain wants?" asked the tallest of the trio as they all trouped down the wide hall, studded with the coat of arms, other Musketeers much like themselves, and office doors to lesser ranking officials.<p>

All three of the trio were adorned in the blue tunic of a musketeer; the golden hilt of a finely crafted fencing sword protruded from the sheath at their hips, and on each of their heads sat an embellished hat, all with different colored feathers. The tallest-and eldest-man, a white haired fellow with red eyes that marked him as an albino, held his head high and proud, moving with grand gestures which, in turn, made the black feathers with white ends atop his hat flit around almost comically. The second of the group, the man that followed directly behind his albino friend as they weaved along the hallway, was brown haired with merry green eyes that went along charmingly with his green and red feathers, which-according to him-came from a bird of paradise.

The last of the group was by far the youngest, but not the least in height or youthful handsomeness. He had golden blond hair that was unfashionably short compared to his companion's and blue eyes the color of the sky on a cloudless day. On his hat were brown and white plumes, which he claimed was from the 'bird of freedom.'

"I can't recall doing anything particularly against protocol," the brown haired man joked, brushing his long hair away from his face with his brown-gloved hand.

"Knowing the Captain, its probably because we didn't fold our uniforms properly," was the teasing reply from the youngest of the men as he weaved around a rather anxious looking platinum blond man who held what looked to be a petition for the Captain to see.

"I really wouldn't be surprise, Alfred, not one bit," barked back the albino in laughter as they reached the last door of the hallway without tripping over one of their comrades, which was an achievement in itself. The hallway they just traversed was littered with musketeers that were just milling about, waiting for something exciting to happen.

The usually stuffy dark brown haired man that stood at attention outside of the Captain's offices at every waking minute of the day gave them a critical eye while the albino returned it with a friendly smile and clapped him heartily on the back, as was his way of doing things, "Hello there, Roderich!"

"Don't you have something better to do than pester me, Gilbert?" Roderich replied curtly, never having much patience for the albino or his friends.

"Actually, mi amigo, we were _requested_ to be here," piped up the brown haired musketeer, giving Roderich a sunny smile. All four of the men knew it was a very rare instance when they didn't appear just to be bothersome that they were.

"That's a first," Roderich deadpanned, while each of the musketeers grinned back at him before saying, while waving them through. "Fine, go on in."

"Much obliged, Roddy," Gilbert thanked, tipping his eccentric hat to the man before leading the way through the ornate door and into a large office, all the walls lined with heavy books and maps while the window directly across of them looked out onto the courtyard below. A man sat at an immense oak desk in front of those windows, the sheer mass of it dwarfing the already vertically challenged and petit blond man.

He sat with his head bent over a stack of papers, reading glasses perched on his nose and thick eyebrows twisted into a scowl, which wasn't exactly uncommon. Clearing his throat, the brown haired man spoke up, "Captain? You requested us?"

The man raised his head to gaze at the three before taking his spectacles from his nose, blinking his leaf green eyes at them briefly, like he was considering each of them carefully. Finally he spoke in his slightly accented French. "Yes, I did. Please take a seat, boys."

He gestured to the three leather chairs that sat across from his desk as he leaned forward in his own chair, steepling his fingers together. The three did as they were told and sat; Alfred finding himself in the middle, making him seated directly across from their stern and very intimidating captain. He gulped slightly.

Captain Arthur de Kirkland was possibly the only man the three musketeers respected, not even the Cardinal or King had more merit in their eyes. It wasn't because of the Captain's fighting skills-even though he was the best swordsman alive in Europe-or that he had become the youngest Captain ever when he took the post two years ago at the age of twenty-one. It wasn't even because he was born to an English mother and a French father and despite the prejudices he faced; he still was a success in everything he did. It was the sole reason that he didn't take any kind of nonsense from his musketeers, and he could easily keep them in line. And they respected that.

"I've been meaning to ask," the Captain started after a moment of further consideration of them. "How Alfred was getting along with you two. I know it was hard on you when Monsieur de Bonnefoy had to depart. I know you felt like you were replacing him even though he was never your official partner when Alfred was assigned to you. But, it seems to me that you three are doing well. Is that correct?"

Monsieur Francis de Bonnefoy was the temporary Captain of the Musketeers when the old Captain retired to his country estate and there was hunt for a new one-which happened to be Arthur de Kirkland. The two men and Francis quickly become friends but then Francis had to return to his life as an aristocrat when the current Captain was selected to permanently fill the job.

"That is very true, Captain," Gilbert nodded, being the mouth of the three when it came to talking to the Captain in such formal instances, "Although Alfred could never replace Francis, he still is a fair hand with the sword and a good friend."

"That's exactly what I needed to hear," the Captain nodded, looking only a measure relieved. "I have the first assignment for you three."

"Really?" asked all three men, perking up immensely.

"Yes, and it closely involves Monsieur de Bonnefoy," the Captain nodded, making all three men sit up straighter and lean forward, intent on what was about to be said. Even though Alfred never met the Monsieur de Bonnefoy, his friends talked of him often enough for Alfred to know that this was a man worth being acquainted with. "His young sixteen-year-old daughter has been kidnapped and is being held for ransom. The Monsieur came immediately to me this morning requesting for your help. This is the ransom note he received."

The Captain passed a thin slip of paper to Gilbert who read it out loud for his two other comrades. Granted, there were more than a dozen spelling mistakes on the page, but it still was somewhat legible. At least enough to read. "Bring 8,355,600 francs to the Barriere d'Enfer by eleven tonight or never see your daughter again."

"The catacombs?" breathed Alfred.

"Yes and you, Antonio, and Gilbert are going down there and rescuing the Mademoiselle," the Captain nodded. Antonio, being the good Catholic he was, crossed himself against the evil that seemed to follow the mere word 'catacombs,' while Gilbert and Alfred traded a look.

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><p><strong>Act I, Scene II<strong>

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><p>Alfred glanced over at his two comrades; Antonio's face lit by their only light-a torch that the Captain had given to them as their only tool on their mission besides their usual swords. Gilbert didn't look in the least nervous, he had boasted many times before about his countless excursions into the catacombs; both for musketeer work and otherwise. But the blond, being in the musketeers for only seven months now, had never even seen the entrance to the underworld of Paris, let alone been in the crypts.<p>

"You aren't scared, are you, kid?" asked Gilbert with a grin at his younger friend. Sometimes it did feel like him and Antonio were so much older than their eighteen-year-old blond companion. Sometimes being twenty-five just felt old, especially with Antonio being married and Gilbert engaged.

"No way," Alfred replied, fervently; more trying to convince himself of this fact than Gilbert. "Me? Scared? Hero's don't get scared!" Antonio rolled his eyes at that, Alfred's hero complex surfacing once again.

"Oh yeah? Than how about-wait what was that?" Gilbert began before cutting himself off and pointing dramatically off to their right, into a rather dead looking bush that sat alongside the cobblestone road they were following.

"What? Where?" squawked Alfred nearly screaming in fright, jumping as he stared down the bush with a tense look; ready to pull his sword should anything suddenly decide to attack them.

"Ahaha! Got you!" Gilbert cackled in laughter, amused that his trick actually worked for once.

"Mi amigos, I think you should quite down," Antonio said, turning to look over his shoulder at his companions, a slight frown on his tanned features. "We're almost there."

"S-sorry," muttered Alfred, still jumpy.

Gilbert snickered at Antonio and replied, "Well, look who's being responsible," but fell quiet nonetheless. The three continued to follow along the darkened and deserted road that led away from the gates of Paris. Finally, they came to a halt at the great gates to the crypt. All three gave it a hard look, almost like they expected a specter to pounce out at them, but, when nothing happened for a minute or so, Gilbert drew his sword-mumbling something about stupid superstitions as he did-and led the way into the passageway.

Antonio followed, holding the light for all three to see by, and then came Alfred, with his own sword brandished and tense, ready for an attacker to jump out at them and a spar to ensue. The three men delved deeper into the crypt, passing by both countless bodiless skulls and the skull-less bodies of people long since dead. The stones under their feet allowed for silent movement, as all of them were careful not to disturb anyone's eternal slumber or slip on loose pebbles.

Soon, the passage way evened out and they entered into a series of large caverns, all with walls made of skulls. When they were making their way through the third of such a cavern, Alfred asked, " How far in do you think these kidnappers are?" in a whisper to his companions, his question amplified by the sheer size of the chamber, making the words bounce around them like he had shouted.

Antonio glanced behind his shoulder and placed a finger on his lips, telling his companion to remain quiet until they had crossed the room. Alfred ducked his head in embarrassment and mouthed a mute sorry as they continued on, exiting the cavern as suddenly as they entered. "I have no clue," Gilbert answered Alfred's earlier question, careful to keep his voice low even though they were following another passage way and his voice no longer would echo.

The three continued along in silence, Gilbert peering into the darkness ahead and Alfred keeping a wary eye over his shoulder should an assailant appear from behind. After a few more minutes of silent progression, Gilbert halted the little group, saying in a voice so quiet it barely carried to the ears of Alfred, who only stood a foot or so away. "I see a light coming from the cavern ahead. There are a few voices as well, so I think we found them. We're going to need to move quickly if we are to keep them from escaping from the other passageway from the chamber the kidnappers are in. That, if there is another passageway." Antonio and Alfred nodded their silent agreement. The Captain had already gone over the situation with them dozens of time, drilling each of their roles into their heads, but it wouldn't hurt to be reminded at least one more time.

Gilbert nodded back and then led them forward once again, Alfred glancing nervously down at the clothes he had been forced into, fingering the blond wig he wore as he did. He had honestly forgotten he was wearing a costume to make him appear like the Monsieur de Bonnefoy and that a purse full of rocks sat at his hip; as he had been too distracted with the catacombs, but now he had to play the role of an aristocrat and worried father, as was part of the plan.

The trio finally reached the cavern they had been aiming for, entering fearlessly and proudly. The cavern was smaller than the others and-for some reason-only had one entrance and exit; the one they had entered through. 'It is strange, but practical,' Alfred thought, 'That way, if there was an ambush, they could only be attacked in one direction.'

Inside the cavern was a small fire that burned in a makeshift fire pit with three grungy, dirt-covered men sitting around it. The man closest to them was bald, then the one on the left had grungy black curls while the other had platinum blond hair. From the looks of them, it was obvious none of them were educated but all rather strong. 'Then again, they probably just picked this cavern at random,' Alfred thought.

On the far side of the cavern, looking uncomfortable that she was seated so close to a pile of skeletons was the loveliest woman Alfred had ever set eyes upon. Even though there was a cloth bounding her hands and feet, and a gag around her mouth, he could see she was beautiful. The young maiden had golden hair the color of the sun that curled around her delicate and small face that looked like a doll's, with a dainty nose that was slightly pink from crying. Her skin was a flawless porcelain white that made her violet-blue eyes more radiant than should be allowed, while her frame was petite and lean even though her pale blue gown was smudged and dirtied.

Before much else could be done, the three men sprang to their feet and the leader-the bald one, as it would appear-spat out at the three swordsmen, "You're Monsieur de Bonnefoy?"

Using his most civilized of accents, Alfred replied, acting the part of the Monsieur, "Yes, my good sir, and I have your money here." He juggled the bag of rocks as if it were coins, satisfied that it made a sound similar to money. Alfred couldn't help but add in a toss of his blond wig for extra measure. From what Gilbert had said, Francis was known for his eccentric habits and the long hair was just too tempting to _not_ flip.

The leader gave Alfred's purse of rocks an almost hungry look, and took a step towards it, but the young man spoke again, "But let's make this a fair trade and no one will be hurt. Please untie my daughter and give her to me. If she is as she should be, you will get your gold."

"You're a reasonable man," the leader nodded, smiling a smile that was more closely related to a leer. "Armand, untie the mademoiselle." The man to the leader's left, the one with black curls, nodded compliantly and went to crouch in front of Monsieur de Bonnefoy's daughter, easily untying her and pulling her roughly to her feet. She wobbled as she stood, as if her legs were too weak to support her, and when it became clear she couldn't walk on her own, the man half dragged her back to where his leader stood. Alfred could feel his anger flare and temper rise at the sight, but he bit the inside of his cheek; it was critical to the Mademoiselle's safety that he didn't act uncivil to her captors.

"Now, hand me the coins and I will give you your daughter," the leader said, turning away from sight of the weak young lady being held by his lackey, a satisfied smile on his mouth.

"I would like to make sure of my daughter's safety first," Alfred replied smoothly, sparing a glance to both Gilbert and Antonio, who were slowly inching their way towards the lackeys; preparing for a fight.

"I can't do that, Monsieur de Bonnefoy, what if you took off with your daughter dearest and I never get my money?" asked the leader, smugly. Alfred sighed, like he was seriously considering the situation even though he knew perfectly well how this was going to play out.

He let out a long, despairing sigh, before meeting the leader's murky, quite unremarkable brown gaze. "Alright, then. We'll do this your way." He unclipped the purse from his belt and moved to hand it to the greedily awaiting hands of the leader.

But before the purse could reach the other man's hands, Alfred easily flipped it over and dumped all the rocks onto the leader's awaiting palms as both Gilbert and Antonio lunged forward and held the two lackey's at sword point. It was almost too remarkably easy, which immediately set Alfred on edge. If there was one thing he picked up from the Captain's afternoon preparation session, it was that it would take much more than a drawn sword, as much of imbeciles as the kidnappers appeared.

The leader chuckled as Alfred's own sword whipped from its sheathe, the purse discarded and forgotten on the stone floor, pointing straight to his chest. "What's so funny then?" Alfred asked, waving the sword tip ever so slightly at the other man, as if to demand an answer.

"I really wouldn't do that if I were you," the man said with that smirk he had only briefly dropped when the purse spilled rocks instead of gold.

"And why is that?" Antonio demanded, speaking up for the first time.

"Armand?" the leader said, calling to the lackey that held the Mademoiselle. She whimpered ever so slightly, making Antonio growl under his breath.

"What is it, Toni?" questioned Gilbert, not moving his gaze from the lackey at the other end of his sword.

"He has a dagger to her back," Antonio replied, a dark scowl appearing on his face.

"Exactly, so everyone lower your swords and we'll leave peacefully, and your little mademoiselle won't get a knife into her back," the leader nodded, his smirk widening as his trick came to light. Alfred wasn't in the least surprised that this man had already talked over some such situation with his lackeys. Alfred glanced at Gilbert, the unofficial leader of their trio, who slightly nodded, and all three of them sheathed their steel. Alfred most hesitant of them as his gaze caught on the mademoiselle.

"Good, now we are going to walk out of here with her and you aren't going to stop us. Else wise…" the leader said, trailing off and allowing the imagination to fill in the rest.

The three stood to the side, the leader heading the way out, with Armand and the Mademoiselle following closely behind. Antonio sent a sidelong glance to Gilbert who replied with the barest of nods. Then both stole a quick look at their youngest companion, who understood perfectly and tightened his grip on his golden hilt.

First the leader strode past, confidentially, and then shuffled the Mademoiselle, still unsure on her feet with Armand pushing her along. Alfred waited until just a moment before he was standing in front of the space between the captive and lackey, whipping out his sword and slashing it though the slim space between the two, making the dagger drop with a clang to the stone floor. Faster than any of the kidnappers could react, Gilbert and Antonio sprang forward. The brown haired man going for the platinum blond lackey and Gilbert easily pinning the leader, giving him a face full of his own smirk; the Mademoiselle, no longer having the support of her captor's grip, crumpled to the floor.

Alfred, sparing only enough time to extract the twin sets of ropes from his belt to tie up the Armand's wrists and ankles and herding him to be under the watch of Antonio, crouched down next to the young lady, worry written all across his face. "Ma-Mademoiselle de Bonnefoy! Are-are you alright?" as he picked up the dagger from the floor and slit her gag off, leaving an angry line across her delicate, pale face.

Rubbing her face with her palms-which were soon released as well-she did not meet Alfred's eyes-who she had instantly known was not her father even in the guise-or answer his question immediately. She instead silently observed as Gilbert and Antonio herded the three men together with their steel, like they were collies and they, their sheep. "I have been better," she finally replied in her quiet voice, with a small and barely noticeable smile. Alfred blinked at that barely-there smile; not helping but to return it in a larger, more toothy one of his own.

"Are you ready, Al?" asked Gilbert once he and Toni were satisfied with the arrangement of their three prisoners and their bonds.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I think so," Alfred nodded back, not taking his gaze away from the Mademoiselle, feeling like his brain had gone to mush. After a moment of blinking like an idiot, he finally managed to say, "C-Can you walk, Mademoiselle?"

"No, my legs are numb from not using them," the curly haired woman said with a slight sigh as she gave her legs hidden under the blue silk of her dress a disapproving look.

"Then-Then shall I carry you, milady?" Alfred offered, still stuttering like a smitten fool-because he was-sincerely hoping that his face didn't appear as red as it felt.

She blinked her lovely violet-blue eyes at him for a moment and then allowed another ghost of a smile to appear on her face as she replied, "It appears that's the only option, then. And my name is Madeleine."

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><p><strong>Act I, Scene III<strong>

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><p>As the large ornate carriage pulled by a team of four white geldings jostled to a stop and Madeleine leaned back into her cushioned seat, letting the heavy curtain fall in the window and covering the view of the magnificent palace of Versailles and the anxious figures of her father and maid, she let out a heavy sigh. After spending the early morning hours and breakfast in the Headquarters of the Musketeers, the Captain-Monsieur de Kirkland-had sent her in the royal carriage back to the palace accompanied by an 'honor guard,' as he put it. She knew it was a precautionary measure should more kidnappers set their sights on her. Madeleine didn't mind, but she was rather disappointed the charming blond young man wasn't selected to accompany her.<p>

Shaking her head slightly at herself, she leaned forward just as a platinum blond footman adorned in a white powdered wig opened the door to the carriage and offered her a hand. She gracefully accepted it and stepped into the noontime sun; her legs having long since returned to working order. She gazed up at the lush green of the courtyard that led up to the main entrance to the palace where the two awaited her. She walked with all the dignity and grace of a well-bred lady, until she was no farther than eight feet from her father.

She stopped and looked at her father. Her father with his fashionably long and wavy blond hair that framed his face. Her father with the lightest blue eyes and the slightly stubbly chin. She smiled at him, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes and she dashed those last steps into his waiting arms, all the tears she dared not shed before coming now in sobs into his baby blue frock. The one she had given him for his last birthday.

"There, there ma chere. You're safe now and I'm never, ever going to let anything happen to you again," he soothed, rubbing her back in slow circles as he tucked her under his chin and rocked his only child. Her Papa always gave the best hugs. She sniffled into his frock for another minute, allowing herself to be a child for only a moment, before she pulled back from her father and gave his a somewhat shaky smile, agreeing with all he said.

Before much else could be said, Elizaveta, Madeleine's maid and dearest friend, seemed to not to be able to stand it for one more moment, and enveloped the golden haired young lady in an embrace. "Oh! Madeleine! I was so worried about you!" the older brown haired woman choked out as the other reciprocated her hug. "I'm so, so sorry! It's all my fault! They abducted you on our ride and I should have been right there with you but I fell behind and-and-"

But Madeleine cut her friend off before she could finish that thought in her quiet but firm tone, "No, no Eliza! It isn't your fault at all! I had ridden ahead on my own free will and I wouldn't expect your old mare to keep up with my filly."

"It is no one's fault except for those men that took you," interrupted her Papa fiercely, letting his rage appear for a moment before his face returned to its usual charming smile. Madeleine blinked at her father, but after a moment of hesitation, nodded in agreement once again. It was unsettling when Monsieur Francis de Bonnefoy's mask of a charming smile slipped; it threw his daughter for a loop when he briefly showed his true emotions.

"Now, let us retreat to our rooms," Francis continued, "The King wishes to see you this evening-you know how much he favors you-and then we shall have a lavish dinner; just the two of us. How does that sound, ma chere?" Madeleine nodded eagerly as she allowed Eliza to lead her back to her guest chambers in Versailles, finding that she missed the highly decorated palace more than she ever could have imagined.

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><p><strong>Act I, Scene IV<strong>

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><p>"Alfred, what on Earth is wrong with you?" questioned Arthur more than a month after the young musketeer's first mission, the Captain of the Musketeers finally thoroughly annoyed with the younger blonde's pacing back and forth in his study.<p>

"Huh?" Alfred asked, glancing over at the Captain, like he was just realizing he was being a nuisance. Ever since their successful rescue, Arthur-for some strange reason that was beyond him-was finding himself subject to being the company to either one, two, or all three of the trio of musketeers. He didn't know how this absolute _honor_ was bestowed on him, but he certainly didn't like it. And, even though his paperwork was suffering, he was finding it easier to deal with the daily issues the musketeers faced; if only because the three babbled on and on about said issues in the first place.

"Alfred, you have been pacing back and forth across my office, wearing a rut into the floor for the past hour or so. What is preoccupying your thoughts?" the Captain sighed, setting down his white quill pen, trying not to show how exasperated he was.

"It's nothing Captain," Alfred tried to wave off his distraction but the Captain knew better. In the twenty-three years of his life, a very short time-all things considered-Arthur had seen a thing or two. He knew when a man was telling a bluff and when a woman was about to pass out from too tight of a corset. He also had seen many a man displaying the telltale signs Alfred was showing.

"Ah, I see," the Monsieur de Kirkland nodded in that knowing way of his, a slight grin of amusement appearing on his face, "Yes, you have it bad."

"What? What do I have bad?" Alfred asked, chewing his lip nervously at his Captain's suspicions. He certainly had an inkling of what he may have 'come down' with, but he wasn't sure if the Captain was thinking along the same lines.

Arthur leaned forward on his desk, fixing his young companion a toothy and knowing grin, "You have a dreadful case of Damsel Adoration."

"Of what?" the younger blond squeaked in shock. That really wasn't what he had thought, but then again, the Captain's theory sounded more correct. Even though he didn't know what exactly it entailed.

At that moment, the door to the Captain's office flew up, revealing Gilbert and Antonio; both striding in and ignoring the protests of Roderich, which was soon cut off altogether as the door swung closed once more. Arthur was not in the least bit shocked or surprised upon the two's arrival; it was a common enough thing for one, two, or all three to burst into his office. He frankly was more stunned that they hadn't made their appearance sooner.

"Damsel Adoration is when a rescuer, after saving a damsel in distress, becomes infatuated with said damsel, hence the 'adoration,'" Gilbert explained in his usual loud voice that commanded the attention of every living thing in the vicinity.

"How does he _do_ that?" Alfred mumbled under his breath but no one offered an answer, partially because they didn't know how he did it either.

"Hello Antonio and Gilbert, nice of you two to join us. I was beginning to wonder where you both had gotten to," Arthur nodded to the two of them nonchalantly.

Antonio grinned back and said, "Nice to know we've been missed."

"Wait, what do you mean I'm infatuated? I thought I was in lo-" Alfred began, about to share his feelings that had been brooding in him for the past month.

But, Gilbert, unaware of this and having an unpleasant habit of cutting people off, interrupting him to answer his earlier question. "Definitely infatuated, my young friend! You can't stop thinking about that pretty little lady that you saved and you wonder if she needs you-her hero-to save her once again."

Antonio, picking up where the albino left off in hopes of not triggering Alfred's hero complex, said, "But the best thing to do is ignore it. Most times damsels are from the aristocracy and men like us don't have a hope or a prayer to ever have them as a _lady friend_. After all, the First and Third Estates are like sworn enemies and sworn enemies aren't lovers."

"Not to mention it would be a scandal," Arthur added in, as he returned to his paperwork, not bothering to look up at the three men in his office.

"Aw, have a heart old man!" Gilbert brayed in laughter at his own personal joke, "Not even the First Estate can keep love apart! You're just like that because you're an aristocrat yourself."

Monsieur Arthur de Kirkland paused in his writing, glancing up at the albino with rage clear in his eyes, but not showing anywhere else. All he did was set his jaw and return to his paperwork. It would not do for him to lose his temper at a careless snide such as that. After all, just as Gilbert had so _kindly_ reminded him, he was an aristocrat. Or, at least, the son of one.

"Let up, Gil," Antonio said, with his easygoing grin as he clapped his friend on the back, "He's right. Damsel Adoration is something to be ignored and you know that."

Alfred, who had been listening intently throughout this whole conversation, didn't feel any better than he did when it started. He felt a certain confusion in his chest and mind. His brain was telling his heart to listen to his friends and just forget about the girl while his heart had its fingers stuck in its ears and was chanting 'I can't hear you!' He didn't know if it was possible at this point to ignore how his thoughts constantly strayed to the mere name of Mademoiselle Madeleine de Bonnefoy or how she felt so small, delicate, and perfect when he carried her out of the catacombs. It just wouldn't be possible.

"Oh, Alfred," Antonio continued as he fished around the left pocket of his breeches, looking very intent on finding something inside. Finally, he extracted a letter sealed with scarlet wax. "The postmaster gave this to us on our way in. It's from Strasbourg, looks like."

"Huh? Really?" Alfred asked rhetorically as he took the letter from the offered hand of his friend. His cerulean blue eyes scanned the front of the letter, only to find it did, in fact, read 'Alfred F. Jones of the King's Musketeers, Place de Musketeers, Paris, France.' And it was addressed from Strasbourg, no less, which only meant one thing. "Why is Ludwig writing?"

"Ludwig? Isn't that the fellow who you stayed two years with when you were younger?" Gilbert asked, remembering the blond telling them about his visit to Strasbourg where his father's friends lived; staying with them and their son, Ludwig.

"Yes and he taught me swordplay. I wonder why he's writing me, though?" Alfred confirmed, before voicing the thought that had been circulating around his head. He carefully slid a calloused finger through the red wax, breaking the seal, and unfolded the letter, his blue eyes scanning the letter easily and quickly, a bright smile lighting up his face after a moment of reading.

"What's it say then, mi amigo?" Antonio questioned. It wasn't in the least surprising that he was asking. After all, Gilbert, Antonio, and Alfred never kept secrets from one another.

"It says that he will be journeying to Paris and will arrive in two months' time. He's staying at Versailles and wants to come to here to visit sometime. He also mentioned something about being engaged, but he really didn't elaborate on that," Alfred concluded, summarizing the rather long, formal, and stiff letter (which were also all very accurate words to describe Ludwig by, as well) in no more than three sentences.

"Well, then," the Captain spoke up, "Seems like you boys are going to be needing to learn some manners in between now and then." Just as the Captain said this, there was a knock on the office door and he called, "Come in."

Roderich swung the door open to allow a platinum blond messenger boy to rush over to hand a very regal and embellished letter to the blond haired Captain of the Musketeers, saying, "This just arrived for you, sir. It's to be read immediately."

"Thank you," Monsieur de Kirkland nodded as he accepted the letter and both messenger and the doorman bowed their ways out of the room. Arthur wasted no time in slipping his finger through the golden wax stamped with the royal crest of the fleur-de-lis. His green eyes scanned the neatly and tightly written text on the page, his mouth opening slightly in surprise as he did. "Well, looks like you boys are going to need to learn manners much sooner than two months."

"Why?" the trio chorused.

"It would seem the aristocracy over at Versailles finally got off their lazy behinds and are inviting you three to a banquet in your honor," the Captain replied before adding in a very cranky mumble, "And I have to attend as well."

It was common knowledge all throughout Paris that the Monsieur de Kirkland was not one to willingly be stuck into fancy, lacey cuffs and emblazed frocks required for a banquet at Versailles. He claimed it made him feel like he was wearing a monkey suit.

"Hold on," Gilbert interrupted, "Why has it taken a _month_ to finally have this banquet?"

"We're talking about _Versailles_ here," the Captain answered, giving him a dry look, "Their definition of quickly is a one week planning time and three week preparation. This is pushing it for them."

"And why a banquet? We've never had one of those before," Antonio asked, looking slightly confused.

"You really don't know?" the Captain blinked at the three, all of who wore identical expressions of confusion. He sighed and shook his head at them, saying, "The Bonnefoy family is at the right hand of the King himself. Not to mention they're the richest family in all of France. And you just saved the _only_ heir to that fortune, the Mademoiselle Madeleine de Bonnefoy."

* * *

><p><strong>Act I, Scene V<strong>

* * *

><p>"Where's the soon-to-be Missus?" asked Antonio as the three musketeers along with Toni's wife-Lovina-and Arthur all rode along in the stylish and lavish carriage that had come to pick them up from the Place de Musketeers. They had left nearly an hour ago and were due to arrive at the palace any minute.<p>

"She positively refused to come," Gilbert shrugged, like he, himself, didn't know what exactly his fiancée had been thinking. "She said she didn't have anything suitable to wear."

"She could have asked me for a gown, there are many dresses lying around the shop that would have fitted her quite marvelously," piped up Lovina, who was unafraid of voicing her opinion throughout the journey thus far. It was almost comical how different Antonio and his wife were, where he was carefree, she was stressed, where he was happy, she was scowling. But, for some reason none of them could quite say, it was decided amongst the other musketeers that they were a perfect match for one another. It may have been for the sole reason because they were entertaining to watch.

"Well, if another such event arises, I'm sure that both of you ladies will look lovely," the Captain cut in, gracefully. Despite the Captain being a cranky, grumpy man-often described as being about as fun as a stick in the mud-he still was charming when he put his mind to it. Gilbert and Alfred traded a look, both trying to smother their snickers at their Captain. He gave them a sour look, but didn't reprimand them.

Soon after, the carriage lurched to a stop, and a footman hurried to open the gold and white door of their carriage. Antonio stepped out first, offering his hand to his wife, who gracefully accepted and stepped onto the stone pavement of the courtyard delicately. Next came the Captain and the two other honorees of the evening, all three of them blinking at Versailles for a moment of awe before stepping all the down from the carriage.

"It's magnificent, isn't it?" asked the Captain as the three followed Antonio and Lovina through the courtyard, taking their time to reach the entrance, where a platoon of footmen awaited them. "Every time I come, I never get tired of looking at it."

Gilbert and Alfred nodded mutely, for the first time, not having a comment between the two of them.

The group of five continued on silently, the Monsieur de Kirkland taking the lead after a moment, so as he could hand the royal invitation to the steward that awaited them and the other guests that were filtering in. The prim little man, glancing briefly down at the invitation and the Captain's scrawled writing of the names of all the party, turned from his vantage point at the top the outside staircase and led the group through the ornate doors and into the grand entrance hall.

From their spot at the top of the grand entrance that offered a splendid view; they could see many courtiers milling about, chatting and giggling; some paying special attention to the other guests that were arriving at that very moment-including the musketeers and lady.

"They're all more nosey than we are," Alfred whispered to Gilbert, meeting the gaze of one of the court woman that had been giving him a rather peculiar look. Gilbert snorted at this just as the steward handed their invitation to the platinum blond herald, also managing to deal them a dirty look over his shoulder as he did. Alfred and Gilbert both snapped their mouths shut and stood stock still, only moving to shoot each other conspiring glances while the Captain just did his best to hide a smirk.

"Presenting the guests of honor, Monsieurs Alfred F. Jones, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and Gilbert Beillschmidt accompanied this evening by the Captain of the Musketeers, Monsieur Arthur de Kirkland and Madame Lovina Vargas-Carriedo," the platinum blond herald proclaimed for all the hall to hear. The five put on their best smiles, Lovina fidgeting slightly at the sudden attention on her, restraining herself from pulling on autumn orange silk gown with cream ribbons and lace, as the five gracefully made their way down the grand staircase and into the milling crow below.

As soon as they had safely made it to the floor without tripping, falling on their faces, or other such catastrophes, the attention of the room shifted away from them and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "Safe," he muttered before speaking up for his men-and one of his men's wife-to hear, "The second to hardest part is over, so go enjoy yourselves until it is time for the King to enter, which will be at approximately nine o'clock. He will want to thank you personally for your service. Bow to him, kiss his hand, but don't speak. And until then, off you go."

"Ever helpful," Gilbert grumbled as him and Alfred went off into the crowd together, leaving Lovina and Antonio to one another's company and Arthur to be his charming, aristocratic self. "He doesn't even point us in the direction of the food."

Alfred chuckled back at that but didn't offer a reply to his albino friend as they continued on their search throughout the crowd. As the two progressed, it became apparent to both that finding the tables set with food may be more trouble than it was worth. After all, they were weaving around the largest dress trains either had had the pleasure to witness as well as trying to squeeze between courtiers with wigs that-should they be pushed ever so slightly-they would lose their balance and topple over. Needless to say, it was a very trying journey.

Upon the two musketeers coming across a rather large madam with an equally large dress, they both split it up so as to circumference her. Unfortunately for both of them, as soon as they cleared the woman, they found that they were both faced with a wall of courtiers with no way to rejoin one another. Hopping slightly, in an attempt to see over the mass of wigs, Alfred craned his neck about for his albino friend but the only white haired people he could see where not naturally white, as Gilbert was.

"Well then," the blond sighed, looking back around to the courtiers that chattered around him. They didn't pay him any mind, so he just started weaving through them once again; deciding that if he found the refreshment table, then it was probably a safe bet that Gilbert would have found it too.

As he continued along, scanning the walls of aristocracy around him, he caught a brief glimpse of blond hair. Stopping-and nearly running into a wrinkled and disagreeable looking duchess-Alfred whipped his head around to see the one person that had been on his mind for the past month. He could just see her through the gap between a lady's train and a gentleman's frock, but there she was nonetheless.

She wore a lavish azure gown, the bodice form-fitting before it belled out in a wide skirt. The sleeves cut off at her elbows before belling off into sheer white silk. Her golden hair wasn't shoved under a wig-much like the other aristocratic men and women around-but instead, her curls were done up artfully, pearls and little blue flowers among the gold, while a single tendril hung just to the side of her right check, bobbing merrily when she moved ever so slightly. It was one of the more simple gowns of the night, all in all, but without a shadow of a doubt, the most lovely.

Alfred's breath caught in his throat as her violet-blue eyes caught turned away from the older blond gentleman she had been talking with and she turned her delicate face in his direction. He usually would have prided himself on being a man of words, always capable of coming up with a dashing, charming, or witty thing to say. But, at that moment, he was utterly speechless.

The platinum blond courtier she had been conversing with departed and luckily, Alfred had regained his ability to speak; nibbling his lip as he contemplated all the possibilities of this situation. First and foremost, he kept hearing the cranky voice of Arthur in his mind's ear, telling him to not be stupid and ignore his bad case of Damsel Adoration. But then he remembered the voice of Gilbert, when the two of them had gone to the albino's home because Alfred found himself without a clean pair of breeches to wear with his formal musketeers' uniform. Gilbert had told him in that wise voice of his that he only used once in a blue moon, 'You know, if you really like a girl, Alfred, and God hands you the opportunity to talk to her, then don't flip God the finger and not take it.'

'Well, I'm a good Protestant man,' Alfred thought as he gathered his courage about him, 'and I'm certainly not going to flip God the finger. So, here it goes.' Taking the one step through the opening of the wall of courtiers, and into the small clearing the Mademoiselle de Bonnefoy stood in; Alfred couldn't help but congratulate himself on his bravery. But then, he realized what close proximity he and the young lady were and all his courage jumped ship.

"It's nice to see you again, milady," Alfred began, mentally kicking himself on positively lame that sounded. It really should have thought of something cleverer to say before he took a leap-or step-of faith to her, but there was no going back now.

Madeleine, having been taken by surprise by Alfred's sudden voice, jumped slightly but then quickly regained her composure and turned gracefully to see who had spoken to her. A small and very sky, smile lit up her face when she caught sight that it was Alfred that had addressed her, saying in response, "And you as well, Monsieur Jones. And I must once again thank you for saving me."

Alfred, trying to hide his embarrassed smile, swept his hat-feathers and all-from his head and into an extravagant bow, saying as he righted and plopped the once again on its rightful place atop his head, "It is just part of my duty, milady; the very least I could do. Think nothing of it." He flashed his brilliant smile.

She blushed in response to that smile, all the conversation starters that had been drilled into her mind over the years in lessons on etiquette and learning to be a lady, completely cleared from her head. "Are-are y-you enjoying the party?" she managed to squeak out after moment of being too busy blushing and struggling to remember her lessons to try and talk.

"It is stuffy, hot, and boring," Alfred said, letting his true thoughts slip from his lips, as he had a tendency of doing. For a moment she stared at him and he blinked right back, mortified in what he just said. "I-I, um, I didn't mean-"

But she saved him from his floundering, saying with a hardly restrained giggle, "I think it's stuffy, hot, and boring as well." A relieved smile came across Alfred's face, mentally breathing a sigh, as Madeleine added, "And I'm glad someone actually has the sense to actually say that."

"Well, milady, I do try to tell the truth," Alfred replied, sheepishly. He was glad that she didn't mind his slip up, but that didn't stop him from being embarrassed about it.

"And that is a welcomed quality in you, Monsieur Jones," Madeleine said, her ghost of a smile reappearing on her face and accompanying her blush. "And, Monsieur Jones, my name is Madeleine, not milady."

Alfred couldn't help but grin back at her, that miniscule smile of hers always made him do so, and replied, "Then, Madeleine, please call me Alfred." Before another word could be uttered between the two of them, the herald announced the arrival of the king and Alfred had to sprint though the maze of courtiers to make it back to the entrance in time to be thanked by his royal majesty, holding his hat down to his head as he went in an attempt to keep it from flying off. Madeleine giggled as she watched him go.

* * *

><p><strong>Act I, Scene VI<strong>

* * *

><p>"So," the Captain began as their carriage driver-a scrawny platinum blond fellow- clicked to the horses and they set off from Versailles, going into the night-shrouded countryside that set them apart from Paris at a moderate pace. "How was everyone's evening?"<p>

"Perfectly wonderful for lover boy here," Gilbert chortled as he looped an arm around Alfred who sat wedged between him and the Captain, giving him a broad smile as he continued, "Danced all night with that blue eyed and blond haired beauty."

"Ah, leave off, Gil," Alfred replied with a good natured laugh, shrugging off his arm and elbowing him in the ribs, not enough to hurt, naturally. Despite his exterior appearance of being carefree, Alfred's mind was actually swimming with thoughts. Thoughts that mostly pertained to a certain golden haired young woman and the beautiful way she smiled an actual smile, not just a ghost of one. With all her white teeth showing and her nose slightly crinkled in a positively adorable way.

"Good, you've gotten over your case of Damsel Adoration, then?" the Captain nodded approvingly.

Antonio, whose shoulder was acting as a pillow for his sleeping wife, merely snickered at the Captain's comment, not daring to make any more noise louder than that, should he wake his wife; who was usually sharper tongued when rudely awoken. Even though his companions seemed highly amused by his escapades throughout the course of the banquet, it was clear to young Alfred they did not recognize the Mademoiselle de Bonnefoy and he thanked heaven above for it. They thought he was just being his charming self as opposed to still being stuck with his 'serious illness' which Alfred couldn't help thinking wasn't an illness at all.

Nonetheless, he didn't bother responding to Antonio's laugh. Instead, the Captain spoke up and said, "I'm really proud of you three-and Lovina-for your excellent performance with the King. He was telling me how impressed with how polite you three all were and the whole court seems to be taken with you." He paused to shoot Alfred a teasing look, but continued on, "And Antonio, please tell Lovina when she awakes that many gentlemen are disappointed she isn't still a mademoiselle. She seemed to have left a significant impression on them."

Antonio nodded in reply to this, his good-natured smile still on his face even though the Captain had just told him other men where flirting with his wife. It wasn't in his nature to get worked up over that sort of thing; Lovina and him both knew they'd never survive without one another, as much as Lovina would begrudge to say as much. "I'm sure she'll be delighted to hear that. She always has prided herself on her witty banters."

"Witty?" Gilbert snorted sarcastically while Antonio gave him an annoyed look, obviously not liking the snide his albino friend was making at his wife.

"Calm down boys," the Captain soothed, trying to avoid calamity or just simply too exhausted from a long day and then having to be _nice_ for once during the banquet to actually put up with his musketeers.


	2. Act II

**Act II, Scene I**

* * *

><p>The next morning, Madeleine was awoken to the sunlight streaming into her face, cheery and warm; greeting her for the day. She blinked her indigo eyes open drowsily, not much liking having to be pulled back into the real world when she had been having a very pleasant dream. It was of the banquet's dancing last night, but it was just she and her handsome partner, swirling around the great ballroom floor, laughing and smiling.<p>

"Good morning, Madeleine," chirped Elizaveta, using her mistress' first name. It had been a long and hard fight for Madeleine to convince her maid as such and the war had yet to be won still, seeing as Elizaveta still refused to refer to her as her nickname, Maddie. "I have your breakfast tray if you would like to eat it now? Or would you rather have it after you get dressed?"

"I'll eat it now, thank you," Madeleine replied, yawning widely as she did. Elizaveta nodded and exited the bedchamber only to reappear a moment later laden with a breakfast tray that she handed to her mistress, who accepted it eagerly, and then the brown haired maid turned to tackle the biggest dilemma of the day. "What to wear?" Eliza mumbled, tapping her chin in thought.

"I don't think there is anything of importance occurring today," Madeleine replied, in way of answer before she crunched into one of her strips of bacon.

"The Russian dignitary is leaving," Eliza suggested and added," But you aren't required to attend that.

Madeleine slightly grinned at that; she wasn't planning on attending then. As Alfred had expressed the night before, it was hot, stuffy, and boring; and while he was referring to the banquet, it was a very accurate description of court life in general. Thinking of something that she had been meaning to ask, Madeleine said, "Eliza, did you ever find out what the Russian ambassador gifted the King?"

"Well, he gave the King a superb singer. He's hired and the ambassador said he has been paid to work for the King for the next five years," Eliza said, stopping in her riffling through the clothes so as to give the full impact of the news. It certainly was strange; usually dignitaries were sent with jewels, horses, and lavish rugs for the King, not actual people. But, at least the man was paid and was here on his own free will.

"How strange. Have you heard this singer?" questioned Madeleine, raising a single golden eyebrow in slight skepticism. Sometimes not all Eliza said was to be trusted.

"No, but my friend Katherine cleans his chambers-she's been assigned to be his maid-and she says she's heard him singing before," Eliza nodded. While Eliza was a bit of a gossip, Katherine was a completely different. Madeleine knew the tall woman with her cheery smile and halo of a pale blond braid around her head from the few times Eliza has been sick or been on holiday. She was the most honest, truthful person Maddie could think of, and if she said as much, then Madeleine believed it.

"Then we shall go visit him today," Madeleine nodded. She would have much preferred to go on a ride on her filly through the countryside, but after certain events, her father had limited her horseback riding excursions to the palace grounds. And, seeing as the gardener would blow a gasket if she were to gallop over the flowerbeds, she had been limited to a walk-trot if no one was around-and that got unspeakably boring after a month. But, spending the day with a singer might prove to be almost as pleasant as a horseback ride.

Then she thought of something, and asked with a slightly furrowed brow, "Can he speak French?"

"Fluently," Eliza nodded before pulling out a leaf green daytime gown and eyeing it over, saying somewhat distractedly as she did, "I meant to ask you; how did that blue gown suit you last night?" Eliza had designed the gown herself, making it simple and elegant to better compliment Madeleine, and was anxious when Maddie tried it on the night before; seeing as that was the first fitting and it would have been difficult to try and alter it in any way.

"Quite well," Madeleine nodded, ducking her head in an attempt to hide a blush as she shoveled egg into her mouth, praying her inquisitive maid wouldn't notice her current state of redness.

But, Eliza was much too quick for that-she had a sixth sense for when there was a juicy bit of gossip just _waiting_ to be told-and she gave Madeleine a critical eye and asked with that annoying smile of hers, "Did anything happen last night, Madeleine?"

The young lady immediately stared at her tray as if it was suddenly very interesting, and refused to meet her friend's green eyes. But, Eliza didn't need a verbal answer, for Madeleine's body language nearly shouted the answer. After all, Elizaveta was a young woman herself and she just said, "Alright, Maddie, what's the gentleman's name?"

Madeleine glanced up at her friend this time, more surprised that she actually used her nickname than that Eliza had hit the problem right on the head. The golden haired woman quickly calculated the situation and replied carefully, "I'll tell you, but only if you use my nickname from now on."

"Agreed," Eliza replied without a moment's hesitation.

"His name's Monsieur Alfred F. Jones," Maddie mumbled, returning her shy gaze back to her breakfast tray.

But, Eliza's hawk-like ears easily picked up on the younger girl's words and she squealed in delight, "Was that the blond musketeer you were dancing with? That's his name?" Madeleine's head shot up in horror that Eliza saw her dancing with him for reasons beyond her-she supposed it had something to do with her naturally shy personality-and blinked wide-eyed at her friend. But that was enough of an answer for the maid, who just laughed in sheer joy.

And, much to Madeleine's chagrin, the rest of the morning was spent with Eliza prying every miniscule detail about the 'dashing musketeer' out of her and by the time they were about to depart to go and meet the Russian singer, Madeleine's Papa, Monsieur de Bonnefoy, appeared in all of his fashionable splendor trailed by his platinum blond serving boy, looking slightly miffed, as per usual. Her Papa inquired if his daughter wished to go on a ride around the Palace with him and it was hard to say no to her father when he put on his puppy-dog face. So, Madeleine's day was spent not in the least how she had hoped to.

* * *

><p><strong>Act II, Scene II<strong>

* * *

><p>That night, as Madeleine lay awake in her large goose feathered bed; she was finding that sleep was far and hard coming. She supposed it may have had something to do how she had stayed into the early hours of morning last night-or this morning as it were-and that she awoke only an hour and a half before noon. This was just one of the many reasons she did not enjoy banquets or court life.<p>

Sighing, she slipped out of her silken sheets and padded across her plush rug until she reached the large window turn door, easing open the wooden and glass frame so as a rush of cool late spring air drifted into the bedchamber. Taking in a deep breath, she stepped onto the balcony the door led to. It was possibly the only thing she missed when she returned home to her families' chateau in the fall, her own personal and private balcony that overlooked the moonlit gardens below. Her room was at the very end of a long wing, making it secluded from all the rest and allowing her privacy, if only at night.

She took in a deep lung full of fresh spring air, savoring the fragrance of the lilacs that bloomed not far away from her balcony.

"Lovely isn't it?" asked a familiar yet startling voice. Madeleine jumped in surprise, hurriedly looking down from her perch to see the smiling face and golden hair she had been dreaming of blinking up at her.

"Alfred?" she managed around her shock-and growing blush, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, Madeleine, I wanted to see you again," he apologized, although the bright smile he wore told her wasn't sorry in the least.

"How did you get in here? If you're caught you'll be executed for trespassing on the King's property," Madeleine continued, trying to ignore the fact that was making her heart flutter about her chest; the fact being that _he_ was there to see _her._

"I doubt they'll execute one of the King's most trusted musketeers. Not to mention that they won't catch me," Alfred replied, his smile never wavering.

There was a pause as Alfred continued to give her a smile and Madeleine simply blinked down at him, a scarlet blush coloring her face. She was grateful for the darkness of the night to shroud her otherwise he'd see how red she was whenever he so much as looked at her. Finally that ghost of a smile appeared on her face as she said, in near a whisper, "I'm happy you came."

But Alfred, just as Eliza, had hawk-like ears and picked up on every hushed word she said, which only made his impossibly large smile grow even wider. "Truthfully, I just came here hoping to simply see you, let alone speak with you. It would seem fate has guided you out onto your balcony to meet me," Alfred admitted after a moment of both staring at one another, drinking in the sight of one another; Madeleine gazing at the sight of the blond musketeer smiling up at her and Alfred up at Madeleine, her blonde curls tumbling around as she leaned forward to peer down at him, a flush visible to even him.

The young lady chuckled in amusement at his statement before asking, as she leaned upon her forearms on her balcony's railing so as to talk more comfortably, "And what would you have done if I was nowhere to be seen?"

"Probably sit on a lonely hill and lament my misfortune," Alfred replied joking, adding in the quickest of winks at her that Madeleine did miss out on, which only served to make even more blood to pool under her cheeks; making every inch of her face-aside from her eyes and eyebrows that is-sufficiently crimson

"Can't have that, can we? The hounds might awake from your lamenting and then everyone will lament that you woke the dogs," Madeleine joked right back, having gathered what little wit was left-what with her heart pounding with nerves-in hopes of getting at least a chuckle out of him.

She got better, for he laughed in carrying peals. His laughter was delightful, warm and happy to the ears and it almost made Madeleine join in as well, it was so contagious. But she hurriedly waved her hands at him, quieting him as she glanced about nervously about. There was supposed to be a night guardsman that came around every half an hour or so, but there was no sign of one yet.

"Sorry," he said as he cut himself off, sheepishly and in a stage whisper.

"It's alright," she nodded back, not helping herself when Alfred tried to manage a sheepish look. "I'm just nervous is all. There is supposed to be a night watchmen that comes around every half an hour or so and I don't want you taking any unnecessary risks." She decided not to mention that being there in the first place was a _very_ unnecessary risk.

"Then I shall depart for the night," Alfred replied, easily able to read the anxiety on the young lady's face and not wanting to give her stress that she didn't need upon herself.

Madeleine looked as if she was about to protest this but closed her mouth and instead asked, "If you are to leave now, would you return?"

"_May_ I return?" he asked, allowing for the barest hint of hope to creep into his voice.

"If you wish," Madeleine nodded back, trying to conceal how much she would adore if he did return.

"Then I shall, at this exact time tomorrow evening," he nodded, no longer able to contain the wide grin that stretched across his face.

The barest of smiles returned and she said, "I will await your next visit, Alfred. Good night and sleep well."

"I will, Madeleine," he replied almost adding 'but only if I dream of you' but stopped himself. He didn't know if she felt the same confusing and jumbled feelings for him as he felt for her; those feelings that could only be identified as love.

He gave her one last gaze, memorizing her every detail for the picture of her in his mind that he would hold close to his heart until the following evening, before he disappeared into the night, as quietly as he came. She stood there watching the darkness he had entered, letting her true, wide, nose-crinkling smile come to light up her face for a minute before she too retreated. Little did she know, that as Alfred moved away, he stole a glance back at her-illuminated in the moonlight and golden hair taking on a silvery glow-in time to see her true smile.

It took every fiber in his body to restrain himself from whooping in joy.

* * *

><p><strong>Act II, Scene III<strong>

* * *

><p>Every night, Alfred would appear under the balcony at precisely ten thirty, where Madeleine was waiting for him. They would talk of everything and nothing; of swordplay and court fashions, of politics and gossip, of their childhood and longtime dreams. They would converse in whispers, only daring to laugh in silent chuckles, and, should Alfred stay more than a half an hour-which was more often than not the case-Madeleine would hurry into her rooms while Alfred would retreat to the cover of the garden until the platinum blond night guard had passed by. They would wait for a minute or two until they were absolutely sure he was gone, and then emerge and continue on where they had left off.<p>

And, after a month of their night time meetings, just when Alfred was about to leave and when Madeleine wished him a good night and for him to sleep well, he finally gained enough courage to reply with saying. 'If only I dream of you.' She had been stunned at this but, as he withdrew for the night, she whispered, 'And I of you.' He didn't hear that night but he heard it every night since.

And even though the young couple-or almost couple-became glowing and radiant when they were together, their daytimes were taking a toll. Even though Madeleine would slid right back into bed once Alfred left, she would replay his words and her replies from that evening over and over in her mind, until she had memorized every syllable by heart.

Eliza noticed that her young mistress yawned in the afternoon where she used to beg for a ride, that she asks for a quiet evening instead of inquiring if the acting troupe was performing and if they could go watch. Eliza noticed that, upon putting on her mistress' face paint in the morning, it required more cover-up to hide the naturally darkened spots under her eyes, which were becoming darker than they should be.

As for Alfred, he had to ride back to Paris every night and by the time he shuffled into his small apartments and kicked off his cloths to flop into bed; it was well past one thirty. He would awake at seven to begin the day; changing into his musketeer's uniform, grabbing his golden hilted sword, and trudging out of his door; could have done with a few more hours of sleep.

Antonio and Gilbert both noticed their friend's haggard appearance and how his usually lightning fast reflexes and incredible strength was lacking whenever they practiced sparing in the Place de Musketeer's courtyard. They worried about him, but just hoped that whatever was keeping him up-Gilbert was betting it was a lover while Antonio's money was on a reoccurring bad dream-would pass and they would get their peppy, sunny Alfred back.

It had gotten to a point, where into the second month of the nighttime meetings, that even Arthur noticed Alfred's change, which was quite an achievement. Even though the trio still made it a business to come and bother their Captain at least every other day, Arthur just wasn't one for observing other people's moods, so when he realized Alfred's current state, it came as a bit of a shock. But, being the proper man he was, he decided that he was going to let the younger blond work through it and didn't say anything about.

And, even though neither mentioned a thing to one another about how much of a toll this was taking other the rest of their lives, neither Madeleine nor Alfred suggested at least one day's recess from their nighttime meetings. It was an unvoiced but shared fear between the two that every night might be their last. It may have been from the knowledge that, if anyone where to find out, they would both face very serious-maybe fatal-consequences or it may have been the simple paranoia with the night guard that came around, both wondering if each time they came around if _that_ would be the time they finally noticed something amiss.

But, in the two months of their time together, until late June, no such thing happened. It, in fact, wasn't a nighttime guard or anyone's knowledge that lead to the end of their meetings, but something that could never have been foreseen by either Alfred or Madeleine.

* * *

><p><strong>Act II, Scene IV<strong>

* * *

><p>"Maddie, your Father wants to talk with you after you're done with lunch," Eliza said as Madeleine delicately patted her pink lips with her napkin, as she had been drilled to do, having just finished said meal.<p>

"Why? Do you have any idea?" Madeleine asked, raising a questioning eyebrow to her friend.

"No idea," shrugged Eliza before adding, "But his message made it sound like it was something important." Madeleine nodded and thanked her maid for the lunch and for the message before gathering herself and making her way towards the exit to her chambers, not needing to wait for Eliza to escort her.

She traveled the short distance to her father's chambers, entering his sitting room and making her way toward the large set of the double doors to the right of the entrance, dodging around embellished lounge chairs and decorative vases, knocking firmly on the doors she stood in front of.

"Come in, ma chere," was the reply, her father knowing exactly who it was. Maddie opened the doors to peer into her father's office. It was a large, beautifully decorated room with large paintings of her and her Papa when they both were younger and lined with bookshelves upon bookshelves of organized and dustless volumes.

She barely had seen Papa in the past two months, which was probably fortunate for her so that he hadn't noticed her haggardness. But, she didn't think any of this luck, since her Papa was always preoccupied with his work for the King during their summers spent at Versailles, even when his Majesty and the royal family weren't in the palace and away on holiday.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked as she stepped into the large office. Her father smiled fondly at her and motioned for her to take a seat. She did as she was directed and sat gracefully into the right of his stylish white and gold writing desk.

"Oui," her Papa nodded before turning to his serving boy, the platinum blond with the perpetual scowl that had been doing a fantastic job of blending into the bookshelves, "You are dismissed for now, be back in time for dinner though." The boy nodded and bowed slightly before exiting the room.

Turning back to his daughter, Francis smiled proudly at her. "You have so much of your mother in you, ma chere, you seem to become even more like her whenever I see you," his father gushed, making her duck her head in embarrassment. That was as high a compliment as he could give her; her mother was the most beautiful woman in all of France-at least before she died.

"Thank you Papa," she mumbled.

"C'est vrai, ma chere, c'est vrai!" he chuckled as he waved a hand at her. "But, I did not call you in here to compliment you. I have a very serious thing to discuss with you." He paused; giving her enough to time to speak if she were to want to ask a question, but Madeleine remained silent, curiously waiting for what her father was going to say. "You see, Madeleine, my very old and dear friend, the Monsieur de Strasbourg and I made a promise to one another, for at the time his family was struggling financially and the agreement benefited both our families."

"The Monsieur already had a five-year-old son at the time and your mother was well into being with you. And when you were born into this world-your mother leaving, as you know, God rest her beautiful soul. But, you and the boy were betrothed," Francis continued.

With every word, Madeleine could feel her heart sink farther and farther until it hit rock bottom-which was somewhere in feet. Biting the inside of her cheek was all she could do to keep herself from protesting the betrothal and possibly give away her fledgling relationship with Alfred.

But Francis did not notice the internal battle his daughter was fighting, as he continued on, "And now that you are almost the age of seventeen-an age suitable for marriage-it is time for you to become a bride. And this evening, your betrothed is to arrive from Strasbourg. So, with great joy, I am telling you that you shall be a madam by the end of the summer!"

Madeleine sat in silent shock for a mere moment before her rational side made her face muscles yank into a delighted smile as she sprang to her feet and pretended to be even more overjoyed with the situation that her Papa was, which would have been an impossible feat even if Maddie was feeling real happiness. She hurried around the desk to give her father an 'excited' hug before she continued her act, flitting around the room briefly before she proclaimed, "I must go tell Eliza!"

Her father laughed merrily at his daughter's 'antics' and watched her go with a satisfied nod. As far as he was concerned, his little girl was delighted and that was all that mattered to him, all the vast amount of gold that would be added to the Bonnefoy family fortune from the-now-rather extensive vaults of his daughter's betrothed was a close second.

As soon as Madeleine was out of her father's chambers, she dropped her act and made a dash for her chamber, fighting back the tears that pricked at her eyes. For once in her life, she did not care about keeping up the appearance of a well-bred lady. She burst into her sitting room, where Eliza had just returned from returning the lunch dishes to the kitchens, and as soon as the golden haired lady caught sight of the brown haired maid, she darted over to her, hugging her tightly and letting her tears flow freely.

Eliza not knowing or needing a reason for the tears, immediately rubbed the younger girl's back and slowly rocked her, letting all the tears be shed before she even bothered asking anything. She would always be there to comfort Madeleine, who she thought of as her little sister at times, and even if she didn't know what was the need for tears and after all snuffling stopped, Eliza always went to fix whatever the problem may be. Although, when she heard of said problem, it hardly seemed like one to her. _Betrothed!_

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><p><strong>Act II, Scene V<strong>

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><p>Later that afternoon, in the Place de Musketeers, Alfred was lounging around the courtyard, a worn letter he had received three weeks before in hand while he was barely continuing himself in his excitement. Today, his old friend Ludwig de Strasbourg was to arrive, briefly stopping by so as the two of them could eat a late lunch together before Ludwig had to continue in his journey to Versailles.<p>

Gilbert and Antonio, who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer when they asked if they could come along to meet Ludwig, eyed Alfred with curiosity and slight weariness. It was strange to see Alfred returning to his normal, bubbly, and easily excitable self all of a sudden. Of course, they knew the reason behind it, but it still set them both on edge.

"Calm down," Gilbert said, glancing over at his blond haired friend with a bored expression on his face.

Before Alfred could open his mouth to retort to his friend, through the archway that separated the courtyard of the Place de Musketeers and the street pulled a sleek, midnight blue carriage with dark, mahogany embellishments; pulled by a team of dark bay geldings. "There he is!" exclaimed Alfred jumping down from his perch on the steps up to the Place and onto the cobblestones of the courtyard.

The carriage came to a halt and almost immediately the door was swung open from the inside. From the shadows of the carriage emerged a finely dressed man; he was tall and intimidating, his long pale blond hair slicked back into a ponytail while he was dressed in loose darker blue traveling clothes-which consisted of a golden trimmed tunic, black breeches, stylish white undershirt, and knee-high boots made of worn leather.

"Ludwig!" Alfred proclaimed happily, clapping his friend on the back as he did and giving his old smile a bright smile. Even though the two hadn't seen one another since Alfred was nine and Ludwig twelve, they still had kept in contact with each other with letters.

"Guten tag, Alfred, good to see you as well," Ludwig replied somewhat stiffly, as he reciprocated the gesture; obviously not used to someone being in his personal space that he liked to allot himself. Antonio and Gilbert grinned identical smiles; both somewhat relieved for the arrival of Alfred's friend finally, they both were equally annoyed about hearing about him so often.

"I'm so happy you could stop off here before heading out to Versailles!" Alfred babbled as he dropped his arm and gestured to Antonio and Gilbert to come and meet his friend, "Ludwig, I want you to meet my two good friends. Monsieur Gilbert Beillschmidt and Monsieur Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, my partners. Antonio, Gilbert, this is my good friend Monsieur Ludwig de Strasbourg."

"Guten tag, nice to meet you two," Ludwig said, bowing stifling to the two musketeers who mirrored his gesture, but looking more relaxed as they did.

"And you as well, Monsieur," Antonio replied, grinning at the stiff blond.

"Hey, you're from Strasbourg, ja? Do you speak Germen?" Gilbert said, stating the obvious. Even though Gilbert himself hadn't lived in the Germanic states since he was thirteen, he still occasionally slipped in a Germen word. Although, that had been becoming very rare as of late.

"Ja, because my families' land is right on the border, we speak both Germen and French," Ludwig nodded, his stiffness somewhat melting away in surprise that the albino he was faced with knew how to speak Germen but yet his French was completely unaccented.

"Awesome!" Gilbert exclaimed, deciding he liked Ludwig already, "Jetzt können wir über diese Idioten reden und sie werden keine Ahnung haben, was wir sagen!" Ludwig blinked at the albino's ramble before chuckling slightly but he didn't offer a response, which Gilbert still took as a personally victory for himself. He could already tell that Alfred's friend was a total stiff and that making him even _chuckle_ slightly was an accomplishment.

"What'd he say?" Antonio questioned Ludwig, giving his friend a suspicious look.

"Ah, who care's? It's Gilbert after all!" Alfred chuckled before saying, "Come on, let's go eat! I'm starving!"

"When are you _not_ hungry is the better question!" laughed Antonio as the quartet trouped across the courtyard, dragging a pouting Gilbert along with them after Ludwig had a quick word with his carriage driver.

"So, where'd you pick to eat? Got to make sure Ludwig, here, has a good first impression of Parisian cooking!" Gilbert asked after all of them passed under the archway and onto the street, apparently already over the jibe that Alfred had made at him.

"I was thinking _Le Café de Vreneli,_" Alfred replied with a teasing look shot at Gilbert.

"Ah si! Let's go see Vreneli and maybe we can stop to visit my Lovina as well?" Antonio cheered while Gilbert looked mortified. Vreneli was Gilbert's fiancée and the owner of one of the more popular cafés in Paris, which she ran with her little brother Laurent. And even though his Vreni-as was his nickname for her-loved him very much, his friends always enjoyed making Gilbert look like an idiot around her and making him unspeakably embarrassed- always worried about what would happen if she were to think he was _too _much of an idiot to marry-which was about the only time he ever was embarrassed.

It really was silly, though, Vreneli already knew he was an idiot and didn't care. And, Lovina, as fate would have it, owned a small dress shop for wealthier women just across the street from Vreneli's café, which was the reason that Gilbert had first met his fiancée, because, after accompanying Antonio to see his then-sweetheart, the two went to across the street to the café and Vreneli just so happened to be short of staff that day and had to wait tables-including theirs.

"How about you run over and get Lovi to come have lunch with us?" Alfred suggested as they all managed to scuttle across a rather busy intersection, coming to a halt outside of their destination. Antonio grinned in that boyish way he always did when he was thinking of his wife and then hurried across the street, to where a rather elegant white brick dress shop sat between a cobbler and a hat boutique. "Lovina is Antonio's wife," Alfred explained to Ludwig, who was looking slightly confused.

The stiff blond haired man nodded in response while Gilbert glanced at the café they stood outside of. It had a well kept storefront, as one would only expect of the tidy Vreneli, with light brown, cream, and russet bricks that went well with the ivy green window frames, and highly polished windows, where one could see dinners happily eating inside.

"Ah, come on Gil, lighten up. We promise not to clip your belt to the chair again," Alfred snickered, making the albino scowl at his friend.

"You realize, I could have hit my head on the table when I _fell _and seriously hurt myself, right?" Gilbert demanded, not at all pleased.

"But you didn't, so it was all fun and games, right?" laughed Alfred, not paying any mind to the albino's sour expression as Antonio-dragging a slightly miffed Lovina behind him-rejoined their group.

"Alright, let's eat!" Antonio cheered, making his wife roll her eyes at his ever-constant enthusiasm. Alfred couldn't help but cheer himself as he led the group of five into the café, where they were met by a short, blond haired youth who stood behind the host's podium, awaiting to seat patrons.

"Good afternoon," the young blond said before adding, "How many is in your party?"

"Hello Laurent," Gilbert spoke up, shoving Alfred aside so as to smile at his soon-to-be brother-in-law and ruffle his hair a bit.

"Gilbert! Hello!" Laurent exclaimed, a bright smile immediately coming onto his face to replace the polite one he had on before, "I didn't know you were coming in today!"

"It was Alfred's idea," Gilbert shrugged while Laurent dodged out from under his hand and attempted to straighten his blond hair that was cropped just below his ears, but was having difficulty with doing as much, only succeeding in making it look-if anything-worse. "But, there are five of us."

"Right this way," Laurent said without a moment's hesitant and led the group through the polished wooden floored and tastefully decorated café, to their best table-the one tucked in the corner so as to allow for privacy and a nice view of the flower shop across the lane.

As everyone else claimed a spot-Alfred sitting immediately next to the window and pulling Ludwig into the seat next to him while Antonio sat across from Ludwig with a friendly smile and Lovina at the end, not looking too keen on taking the seat across from Alfred-Gilbert turned to the shorter blond young man, saying, "Hey kiddo, where's Vreni?"

Laurent smiled up the taller albino and replied, "She's in the kitchens. You can go on back if you want to." He really didn't need to say that, since Gilbert would go into the kitchens even without permission.

"Of course I want to kiddo and thank you. I'll see you later," Gilbert said, giving the younger boy a one armed hug before heading towards the swinging door marked 'In' that led to the kitchens and his fiancée. Laurent departed as well, going back to his podium where a smartly dressed platinum blond youth awaited to be seated.

"So, Ludwig," Alfred said, not missing a beat after everyone was seated, "What's this about being engaged?"

"Well," Ludwig began, "A few years ago when I turned eighteen, my father told me I had been betrothed since birth-"

"Ouch," Antonio sympathized.

"And he never told you?" Lovina asked, cutting in completely. She didn't need to be introduced to the blond man, Antonio had told her often enough about Alfred's friend and that he was arriving that particular day to know that he was Ludwig nor did she really care if he knew who she was; if he didn't, than he obviously had no business _needing_ to know.

"No, it would seem him and my betrothed's father made the agreement when I was five and she was yet to be born, all for some financial problem of my father's," Ludwig explained, looking a little annoyed with his father at that moment for his financial problems eighteen years ago.

"Why didn't they tell you when you were five?" Alfred asked, "I mean, sure you were young, but it's your marriage, you had the right to know, right?"

"My thoughts exactly," Ludwig nodded, "But, there's not much that can be done now; today I'm to go to Versailles where I shall meet the young lady and then we will be wed by the end of summer. The worst thing of it all is that I've never even met the young lady."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Antonio said, looking truly sorry as he did. He was always genuine no matter what before he added with a joking tone, "I guess that's just the burden of the aristocracy, right?"

Alfred laughed at that while Ludwig even cracked a smile and chuckled, "I suppose."

"But no matter! For now, let's eat delicious food," Alfred suggested, clapping his friend on the back good naturedly as Gilbert reappeared dragging his beautiful long blond haired fiancée, her hair done into two braids and jade eyes trying their best to scowl at him but failing in the process, along with a serving girl to take their food orders. Soon all thoughts of betrothals were forgotten as Gilbert and Vreneli joined the table and their food arrived, the afternoon wearing on in a very enjoyable fashion.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So there we are, Act Two. **Review**, oui?


	3. Act III

**A/N: **So, I hope you've been enjoying the story thus far but you should also be on the lookout because its Where's Waldo: Nikita Edition! Nikita-or male!Belarus-is in every scene and plays just about every extra role! _Sometimes_ he plays the role twice or more and _sometimes_ you might not even know he's said role until he plays it once more! Now where could he be? Happy hunting!

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><p><strong>Act III, Scene I<strong>

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><p>Madeleine bit her lip anxiously as Eliza finally closed the bedchamber door behind her, leaving her to sleep for the night. She strained her eyes until her maid's footsteps vanished before waiting a moment. When there were no further sounds she sprung out of bed and hurried over to her balcony doors and wrenched them open.<p>

It was nearly eleven already and she hoped that Alfred hadn't left.

Glancing down, she saw neither hide nor hair of the blond musketeer. The only person she saw was the retreating back of the platinum blond night guard. Letting out a squeak, she ducked back inside, although the guard hadn't spotted her. She stood for a moment inside her bedchamber, straining her ears, but she heard nothing. Creeping back out onto the balcony once more, she gazed around once more, but there was still no sign of Alfred.

He must have left, and she didn't blame him. It was nearly a half an hour past their usual time; she wouldn't know what'd she do if he hadn't appeared for that long of time. She bit her lip anxiously as she continued to glance around, did he think that her not showing meant she no longer wanted to see him? 'But, then again,' she reasoned, 'It might be a blessing to not see him tonight. Maybe it will give me time to think about finding away to tell him about-'

But then, out of the shadows of the garden, stepped Alfred. She couldn't help but breathing a sigh but also cursing her luck as well. She didn't know how she was supposed to go about telling him. Taking a moment to allow him to make his way to his usual position, she said, leaning over the balcony so as to see him better, "I'm sorry for making you wait. I had to have dinner with a guest of my father's tonight. It went much longer than I thought."

"That's alright," Alfred grinned back, before adding, "I always suspected that-with all the parties and dinners you have to attend-you might be late some nights. I'm surprised that it hasn't happened before."

There was a pause as Madeleine smiled that ghost of a smile at her handsome musketeer and both of them seemed to just listen to the night sounds. Of the crickets chirping and the cicadas buzzing. Finally she spoke up and asked, "Alfred?"

"Yes?" he replied, almost eagerly.

"Could you climb up here?" she asked. Without a moment of hesitation, Alfred analyzed his climbing options and grabbed onto the ivy. Years of swordplay and strength training helped as he scaled the walls of the palace, making his way slowly but surely up the walls. He had thought of climbing up to her before, but that had only been a fleeting thought, as he would only do such a thing if she asked. And now that she did, he didn't need to be told twice.

Upon reaching the railing of the balcony, he easily swung himself up and over, landing only a handful of feet away from the golden haired lady. He had never noticed that her nightgown had pink ribbons around the collar, that her feet were bare, or how incredibly small she looked in her white gown. But, now that he was standing there, so close, he could see it and wondered briefly how he hadn't before.

But only briefly, for he soon found her thin arms wrapping around his neck and her head resting against his chest, tears streaking down her perfect porcelain cheeks and onto his shirt. His hands instinctively going around her waist as he held her close. She didn't know why she had let her closely guarded tears fall all of sudden, but it was now that he was finally holding her that she realized that this would be the first and only time it would ever happen and it felt _right_.

"My sweet, what are your tears for?" Alfred asked in barely above a whisper. She didn't respond; only pulling away from enough to look him in the eyes, like she was searching his face, a question clear in her indigo eyes. His answer was taking one hand from her waist and gently tracing her jaw line before coming to her chin and cupping her cheek, using his thumb to rub away the tears left; Madeleine instantly leaning into the warmth of his hand.

After a moment, he brought her chin slightly up and pressed his chapped lips against her small, delicate pink ones. A single clear, fat, salty tear escaped from the corner of her left eyes and slid down her cheek. But, she let her eyes flutter closed, her long black lashes brushing her cheeks, and focused on the warmth that surged through her for just another moment. And then he pulled gently away, only to peck her nose. A brief smile-a real smile-that lasted only the barest of seconds flashed across her face before it grew somber once more.

"Alfred, I-" she began, but cut herself as she bit her lip, catching sight of his truthful, honest, and _beautiful_ eyes looking at her.

"Yes?" he encouraged, with that sincere smile of his.

"I'm, I'm," she took a deep breath and spat out the word like it tasted of poison, "_betrothed."_

* * *

><p><strong>Act III, Scene II<strong>

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><p>There was a soft knock on the office door and the Captain glanced up from his paperwork, saying, and "Come in." A platinum blond doorman-Roderich was on his weekly day off-opened the door to allow a very downtrodden Alfred to enter the office. He looked absolutely horrible; eyes red from tears, bags under his eyes, golden hair unkempt, and a uniform that looked like it had been slept in.<p>

"Dear Lord, Alfred!" Arthur exclaimed once the door was shut, even though his shout was hardly muffled by the door to anyone in the hallway, "Sit down, lad! What happened to you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," Alfred replied as he flopped into his usual chair, stifling a yawn as he did.

"Did you stay up all night?" Arthur asked in shock before a thought occurred to him and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "Did you do something I wouldn't approve of?"

Deciding to not point out there were a _lot_ of things that musketeers did on a daily basis that the Captain wouldn't like, Alfred just decided to stick to him, personally, and replied honestly, "I have been, sir, but it's not going to happen anymore."

Arthur opened his mouth to reprimand the younger blond or question the boy upon what he meant-maybe both-but then he saw the briefest flash of emotion on Alfred's face. It was an expression Arthur had seen only once before in his lifetime, a memory he'd never forget, and he felt his heart twinge slightly in sadness; it was none other than true and utter heartbreak.

The Captain, although not in the least inclined to even _think_ about his past, seemed to relive it in one instant just because of that one, simple facial expression. And, for some reason beyond his own understanding, said, "Alfred, I'd like to tell you a story." The blond youth glanced up at his in surprise but did not protest this, "Many years ago, before I was born-"

"That _is_ a long time," Alfred couldn't help from quipping.

Arthur narrowed his eyes in a scowl but ignored the comment, continuing on, "There was a young Frenchman who was betrothed to a beautiful lady. But, this Frenchman was in love with another woman-an Englishwoman-who was of a much lower class than he was. He wanted to run away with this girl, but his duty bound him to marry his betrothed. So he married her-the betrothed that is-and they lived their first few years happily together although neither truly loved one another, until it became apparent that the lady couldn't have a child of her own."

"Then, one day, the other woman that the Frenchman still loved appeared at their chateau with her three year old son. But she soon died of illness, telling the Frenchman that the son was his own just before she died. He took the son in, for he had no heirs of his own, and loved him deeply. His wife was bitterly resentful towards the young boy, who her husband loved, and tortured the boy when his Father wasn't around. As the boy grew, he learned swordplay from his Father while his stepmother taught him to be bitter."

"When the Father died rather abruptly, the boy's stepmother cruelty knew no bounds and the boy-at that point, a young man-fled his rightful chateau to go on an adventure, gain fame, and forget of his past; if only for a bit," Arthur concluded his story, to find Alfred blinking at him and he sighed exasperatedly before asking, "Alfred, did you see the point in that story?"

There was pause. "Captain! I am open to any missions that you may have for me-as long as they take me away from Paris!" Alfred spoke up, jumping to his feet and looking like his old self once again.

He just sighed, Alfred had indeed _not_ seen the point in his story, and decided that the only thing to do at that point was to let the lad go and think things through himself. Sometimes that was the best solution for a young man. So the Captain said, "How would you feel about traveling to Nice?"

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><p><strong>Act III, Scene III<strong>

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><p>Madeleine glanced across the short distance inside the carriage to see Eliza happily humming to herself. She was glad at least <em>one<em> of them was excited about this. The two were on a day trip to Paris, where Elizaveta said she knew the perfect dress shop that her friend owned where they could find her a lovely wedding gown-along with all the other gowns she would be needing for the events leading up to the wedding. Needless to say, Madeleine was not in the mood for gown shopping after last night.

She slightly shivered and shoved the thoughts out of her mind. She _really_ didn't want to think about that at that moment. Nor did she want Elizaveta noticing something amiss with her and prying about it.

"Ah, we're here!" announced Eliza happily as she peered out of the carriage's window, pulling the royal blue curtain back so as to get a good look at the white stoned shop that they had stopped in front of. The platinum blond footman pulled their carriage's team to a halt-although they were barely moving before that-and he leapt off the driver's seat so as to get the door for the two women.

Elizaveta slid out eagerly with Madeleine following closely behind, much less enthusiastic than her friend. The two girls thanked the platinum blond footman before crossing the short distance of sidewalk and entered into the lovely little shop.

Inside, the sky blue walls were lined with mannequins displaying some of the finer dresses the shop had designed and made while the polished wooden floor were studded with small tea tables and chairs for patrons to relax in while discussing dress designs or fabrics. Towards the back of the room, was a door which led-presumably-to the back room behind a white wood counter and next where the wall became mirrors and wrapped around a bit from the back wall to the one on the left. Along with the mirrors were lounge chairs to lay dresses when waiting to be tried on and weary shoppers in need of a power nap.

There was a petite auburn haired woman behind the counter-being the only other one in the story because it had only just opened-and Eliza called out happily to the woman, "Madame Lovina! Bonjour!"

She jumped slightly and looked up from the design book she had been paging through before a smile appeared on her face, "Bonjour, Elizaveta! I did not expect you so soon! Is this the Mademoiselle de Bonnefoy then?"

"Oui," Eliza nodded with a grin as her friend came around the counter and hurried over to meet them.

"But you may call me Madeleine," Maddie added as the auburn haired woman reached them.

"I've heard much about you," Lovina said with a saucy wink, "My husband was one of the musketeers that saved you from those dreadful kidnappers. Antonio? Yes, the annoyingly optimistic one. He says that his young friend, Alfred-the blond one-was enamored with you after that."

Madeleine's well-placed mask of politeness briefly dropped to show her despair, but she quickly regained her composure. Lovina, not having missed her change in facial expressions but interpreting it for something completely different said, "But don't worry, dear, I doubt there is anything to it. After all, you have more important things to think about, like a wedding gown?"

"And four ball gowns," piped in Elizaveta with a smile.

Lovina looked like she had died and gone to heaven. "Well, then," she said, a broad grin on her face, "Please take a seat then and we shall get started."

The two women sat as Lovina suggested while the auburn haired woman hurried to retrieve her design book from her counter. She soon returned and handed it to Madeleine, although Elizaveta was the one that she seemed to be truly conversing with. "So, did you have any thoughts of what you wanted?"

"For her four ball gowns?" asked Eliza and Lovina nodded in response, before the maid continued, "I was thinking all very simple but elegant designs. The blue gown she wore-you know the one that I showed you designs for-looked simply lovely, so I was thinking something similar but maybe a touch more intricate."

Lovina nodded, following along perfectly well with what her friend was telling her-recalling the cobalt gown design Eliza had shown her nearly three months ago-before she nibbled her lip in thought and glanced at Madeleine, who had wisely decided to stay out of the conversation and was flipping through the design book. "Well, she has a far complexion so; we don't want to wash her out with yellow or other light warm colors."

"Maybe an indigo to match her eyes as a final gown?" suggested Eliza.

Lovina nodded at the thought, before adding, "I just got the perfect bolt of silk for that. And, maybe a gray silk gown? I have a new assistant who is very good at embroidery and has come up with a way to make the dress appear to be stain glass."

Eliza nearly squealed in excitement, "Perfect! That will be lovely! And maybe layer it like Madame de Lyon's gown?" Lovina nibbled her lip again and nodded; she remembered the gown clearly from earlier that year. It had been a pain to sew, but the finished product was well worth the work.

And so, Madeleine spent the rest of the early afternoon being ignored as decisions about her ball gowns and her wedding gown were made for her. She really didn't mind though, she didn't know if she would know what they were talking about even if she was asked for her opinion. Not to mention, every time she looked at the wedding gowns section of the fashion book or it was brought up in the conversation-which was inevitable for they _were _there to buy one-her heart ached at the thought that she wouldn't be wearing the gown to marry the man she would have preferred. So, with a heavy heart, Madeleine sat through measurements and more brainstorming until was time to return to Versailles.

* * *

><p><strong>Act III, Scene IV<strong>

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><p>Alfred breathed in a lungful of fresh, sea salted air, as he gazed out at the view before him. He had paused on his way into Nice and escorting the Madame de Nice on her return to her estates for her daughter's pregnancy, so as to savor the glorious sight of the clear blue waters of the Mediterranean stretching out before, all the way into the distance where the azure ocean meet the cerulean skies.<p>

He knew he was running away from his sorrows-something his hero mentality was grudged to admit-but at that moment all thoughts of the golden haired lady that had captured his heart when he saved her from her captors were temporary pushed from his mind, but that wouldn't last too terribly long, as they always were bound to come back sooner or later.

Turning away from the picturesque scene, he nudged his bay colt into a trot and hurried to catch up the rest of the escort. None of the musketeers assigned to the escort seemed to notice his absence, but that was just fine with him. He hadn't been altogether talkative throughout the trip-he had not only his own troubles but the story the Captain had told him and its hidden meaning on his mind-and unlike the other musketeers, didn't live in the area and was returning to Paris the following day alone. Which just meant he wouldn't have to be friendly towards them for a return trip.

The little company rolled past the outskirts of town, going around Nice itself and heading towards a stucco villa that sat atop ad ridge that overlooked the sea below. The manor itself looked more Italian than French, but it still was the Madame's chateau and their final destination.

The carriage and all the mounted guards halted outside the gates-the coach too large to fit through the rather narrow portcullis-and the lady was gracefully handed out and into the sun, all her footmen scurrying around behind her to bring in her sizeable amount of luggage as she disappeared into her villa. Alfred, after only waiting around long enough to be told that they were all expected to back in Paris in a two week's time-which was more than enough time for him, who was leaving in the morning-wheeled his colt around and headed off towards town at a mild pace.

By the time he and his mount were clopping through the cobblestone streets, the little shops were beginning to open their doors for business and shoppers were already beginning to dot the lanes. Alfred scanned the signs for an inn, deciding he might as well drink his worries away now and have enough time to nurse a hangover and be on the road by nine the next morning.

Spotting a little white bricked building with blue shutters and a sign that read '_Captain's Fancy,'_ he halted his horse and tied him to a post just outside the door, knowing he'd be able to get water and grain for it once he had booked his room for the night.

The downstairs of the inn was a tavern while a staircase led upstairs to the bedchambers, as many inns were, and Alfred made his way across the tavern to the front desk, where a drowsy looking youth sat. "Excuse me, sir, I would like a room for the evening," Alfred told the youth with his bright smile.

"Just one night and one room?" asked the brown haired young man, trying to fight a yawn as he did. Alfred, himself, was getting a little tired just looking at him. Before he added, "And a stall for my horse."

"Very good then, sir," the youth replied, bobbing his head compliantly before saying, "Your bill comes to seventy francs." Alfred pulled out the required money and handed it to the youth who then said, "Then here is your room key. You'll be in room five and your horse will be stall eight."

"Thank you," Alfred replied, accepting the silver key from the young man.

"Have a pleasant stay," he replied; sleepily as his head began to droop dangerously close the desk. Alfred blinked at him before slightly shaking his head and returning outside to stable his horse.

When he returned to the tavern of the inn, there were a few locals milling amongst the square wooden tables and going over to the bar to chatter, but no one seemed to be drinking at the moment. Alfred planned to change that.

He made his way over to the bar and plucked down in an empty stool, saying to the bartender, who had just finished conversing with a platinum blond young man, "I'd like a tankard of mead."

"Ve! I wouldn't do that!" came a voice from his right before the bartender could so much as respond or make a move to get his order. Alfred turned to see a curly auburn haired girl with caramel brown eyes looking at him anxiously. She wore a simple green traveling gown and Alfred immediately blinked at her in shock. "It's bad to drink so early in the morning!"

"Lovina?" Alfred asked in response, ignoring the woman's reprimand for now. He was pretty sure that it wasn't Antonio's wife-if she were to tell him to not drink she'd use more choice words than that-but she sure did look like her.

"Ve! I'm not Lovina, silly! I'm Felicia!" Felicia said with a happy giggled before she gasped in realization and asked melodramatically, "You know my older sister?"

Alfred nodded, now having completely forgotten the shot of whiskey, "Yes, I do actually. She's the wife of a good friend of mine, Antonio. I'm Alfred, by the way."

Felicia nodded enthusiastically, "Right! Right! I'm going to go visit them right now, actually!"

"Really?" Alfred blinked, surprise on his face before he asked, "Are you going all alone to Paris?"

"Yes, I started out in Venice and have been traveling for the past two weeks or so! My horse got stolen about nine days ago, so the going's been kind of slow," she replied, relaying all her misfortune in a very happy tone.

Alfred, for some strange reason, was stuck with the thought that Felicia's bubbly personality would do well for a certain stiff aristocrat he knew. Maybe it would help him loosen up a bit and smile more? But then he shook his head to clear it of that thought, that couldn't possibly happen. After all, Ludwig was betrothed as well.

But then Alfred made his thought's come to a screeching halt, trying to focus on what Felicia was saying.

"-And all the walking is making my feet hurt and me very hungry for pasta, so I have to stop in towns often too," Felicia was babbling.

"Felicia," Alfred interrupted, if only to get her to stop rambling before he thought of something, "Do you want to ride back with me? It's about an eight-day journey on horseback, so it'll be much faster than walking. But, we won't be able to stop for pasta breaks at every town we pass."

"Well, I suppose as long as we can have pasta for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if it means it means we can see Lovina sooner. I shall sacrifice my pasta breaks for my sister's sake!" the girl proclaimed nobly, like she really was giving up something that essential for her to live before she added with a bright smile, "And Lovi will probably make me so much delicious pasta when we get back that even you and Antonio and all the other musketeers can have some!"

Alfred wasn't sure about that, but he sure liked the sounds of food right then and order a plate of white sauce pasta instead of whiskey-half of which Felicia ate-and spent the rest of the afternoon being chattered with, or rather _at_ would be the more accurate term, by Felicia.

* * *

><p><strong>Act III, Scene V<strong>

* * *

><p>Madeleine couldn't take it anymore. If she saw one more flower arrangement, tried one more bite of cake, was stuck into one more gown for a fitting, she swore, she was going to scream. It was only late July-her wedding a month away still-but she had quite enough of weddings in general. Everyone was always asking her about this or that; they'd suggest this hairstyle or that certain flower for her bouquet. And frankly, it was annoying. It didn't help in the least that her heart still ached; she was beginning to fear it would never stop.<p>

That was why, when Eliza left her briefly alone so as to return the lunch dishes, she would make her escape.

Madeleine sat in her tearoom, the one she normally took lunches in when she wasn't to eat with a guest or in Paris for wedding preparations, and she anxiously watched as the ends of Eliza's leaf green gown disappearing from view through the doorframe. As soon as the rattle of the plates vanished, Madeleine hopped up from her chair and scurried across the tearoom, entering her sitting room and only pausing enough to wrap her shawl over her shoulders before trotting out of her chambers.

Cautiously looking both ways, she edged into the corridor, breathing a slight sigh as she saw neither hide nor hair of her maid, before going in the opposite direction that Eliza would have gone to the kitchens, trying to maintain her dignity while nearly sprinting down the hallway. Keeping a wary eye out for any servants that may stop her; she let her feet carry her where they may. She wanted to get thoroughly lost, that way there'd be less of chance that Eliza would end up finding her.

She didn't come across anyone as she continued on, it would seen all the courtiers were taking advantage of the King's vacation from the palace by returning to their own estates briefly to check up on everything. She frowned at the thought, briefly wishing she and her Papa would leave as well but knew that wasn't going to happen, before she spotted a platinum blond servant coming down the hallway she was traveling along, looking urgent. Not taking any chances, she ducked into the nearest door.

Blinking briefly at the hall she founded herself in-the Hall of Mirrors- she picked up her pace once again, fearing pursuit. Hurriedly scurrying across the Hall, Madeleine ducked into a side passageway only used by servants from time to time. In her haste she nearly collided with a maid that was passing by.

"Maddie?" squawked the maid, blinking her leaf green eyes in surprise at the golden haired lady as she regained her footing.

"Merde!" was Madeleine's only reply as she gathered her skirts and ran at top speeds; she really didn't care about dignity and modesty right about then. All she wanted to do was keep her sanity and that meant she needed to get away from Elizaveta.

"Maddie! Stop! Someone stop her!" shouted Elizaveta after her accompanied by the slaps of her own footfalls on the stones of the passageway, but Madeleine paid her no heed, only running faster. Upon reaching a fork in the passage, she veered a quick right before bolting through the door that came up immediately to her left. Racing across the drawing room that she had found herself in-which was fortunately empty-she wrenched open yet another door and sprinted into a corridor.

Taking off down it, she could hear the door to the drawing room burst open as Eliza pursued, "Maddie! Maddie! Stop! Why are you running?"

Madeleine didn't bother to waste her breath she skidded around a corner, anticipating the staircase that lay right beyond and took all twelve of them in two leaps, reaching the bottom in a matter of milliseconds before taking a right, entering another guest wing of the palace. She zoomed off down the hallway, hoping the stairs were of some hindrance to maid. But she could hear the quick steps of Eliza as she hurried down the stairs, only falling behind slightly by the obstacle.

Puffing for air, her indigo eyes scanned the walls for the painting of Louis the IV, the one with a secret door behind it. Spotting it, she skidded to a stop before the painted face of the long dead monarch and gently pushed on the canvas, revealing the room behind it. She stepped in hurriedly and slammed the painting behind her, panting heavily as she slid down the wall; staring at the drawing room she had found herself in.

It was cluttered with sheet music that lay stuck under or on pillows, blankets, and books strewn all over the desks, chairs, and lounges. And amongst the clutter were two people, one that Madeleine recognized as Katherine, Eliza's friend, and the other was a tall fair-haired man with chiseled handsome features and the strangest purple eyes. Both maid and man blinked at the new intruder as she huffed.

Finally regaining her breath enough to speak, Maddie puffed out, "I'm sorry, I need a place to hide."

Before either of the two could reply, there was an urgent knock on the door and the man wordlessly went to answer it, opening the door with a moment's hesitation. Madeleine, if she leaned forward far enough, could spy the hem of Eliza's green dress-which made her pull back hurriedly. She must have heard the painting slam shut and thought it was a door. Eliza must have been knocking on all the doors and asking for her.

As if on cue, Eliza asked, "Is Mademoiselle Madeleine de Bonnefoy in there? I've been looking for her."

"No, sorry," the towering man shrugged, not sounding in the least sorry, before Eliza thanked him and continued on her way. He closed the door behind her, sparing only a moment to give Madeleine a curious look before returning to the cluttered round table that he had been sitting at before, adjusting his chair ever so slightly as he sat.

Madeleine glanced at Katherine, who had stood stock still since her arrival but now returned to the task she had been at before her entry-folding trousers and placing them in a drawer. There was a moment of silence, the only sound being the scratch of the purple eyed man's quill and the soft rustle of clothe before the man spoke, in that same warm musical baritone voice of his, "If I am to give you shelter, the least you could do is tell me your name, although I can guess."

Not bothering clamoring to her feet to curtsy, she introduced, "I'm the Mademoiselle Madeleine de Bonnefoy. But, just call me Maddie." She didn't know why, but she was tired of her full name. Maddie was just shorter and much easier to handle at that moment.

"As I thought," the man nodded as his quill continued in its scratching.

"Are you going to tell me your name?" asked Madeleine after a moment of silence.

"I suppose," the man shrugged, before saying, "I'm Monsieur Braginski, as you'd say, but, you might as well call me Ivan. And before you ask, yes, I am the Russian singer." Before she could say anything in response to this, Ivan continued, "So, Maddie, why were you running?"

"I'm to be married come the end of this August and if I hear one more thing in preparation for it, I'm going to scream," she replied, deciding to be perfectly honest with this man. She was tired of having to pretend day in and day out. Of pretending she was excited to go to Paris to look at gowns every other day, of acting like _wanted_ to eat bite after bite of cake to sweet even for her, of feigning that her heart wasn't broken into a million pieces.

There was a pause as both Ivan and Katherine glanced at Madeleine-Ivan's face showing only curiosity while Katherine appeared shocked-but then the purple-eyed man spoke up, "I'm guessing you don't wish to get married then?"

"I never said that," Madeleine replied, defensive even though it was perfectly true.

"You implied it," he pointed out nonchalantly.

Finally, Katherine spoke up, saying in her gentle voice, "Usually a bride is so excited over her marriage that the preparations and fuss are no bother to her."

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Katyusha, thank you," Ivan nodded approvingly, never taking his eyes off whatever he was writing.

"Alright, alright," Madeleine gave up, "It's not really what I want."

Katherine answered her this time, "Well, I don't know if I can offer any advice, but I _can_ offer a hot cup of tea."

"Merci, Katherine," thanked Madeleine as she finally clamored to her feet, dusting off her skirts as she did and the fair-haired maid-her hair up in its usual halo of a braid-hurried from the messy room.

"Come sit down while you wait," Ivan said, gesturing to the empty seat across from him at the small table.

"Ah, thank you," she replied with her ghost of smile, picking her way through the clutter to take the offered chair. Glancing down at the tabletop as she sat and the letter that Ivan had been penning, she couldn't help but asking, "What are you writing?"

"A letter to my father back in Russia," Ivan replied with a shrug, "He made me promise I'd right him every week to tell him of all that happened."

"He sounds like a nice man and a good father," Madeleine said, thinking of her own father as she did. Even though it was him that unintentionally caused all her heartache, she still didn't look at him in any other light than before. If she really thought about it, the only person she blamed was herself for allowing herself to fall in love.

Ivan shrugged, returning to his nonchalant voice, "He is cold on the outside but is very soft to me and my siblings."

Before Ivan could say any more, Katherine returned to the messy room and picked her way over to them, saying, "Monsieur Braginski, I wish you would allow me to do my job and clean this place!"

"But messiness allows for ideas to leap from the pages of books and form my next great song," Ivan replied with a slightly joking tone in his voice. The maid just rolled her eyes and set the tray and tea set onto the table, pouring them two cups as she did.

"Tea and crème?" the maid asked after serving Ivan his, not bothering to ask him, as she already knew he liked three scoops of sugar and a dash of crème.

"Just a little crème for me, please," Madeleine replied and soon wrapped her long fingers around the warm porcelain tea cup, staring down at the liquid only to have her sorrowful reflection looking back up at her, the tea acting as a mirror.

Ivan observed all of this over his own cup of tea, as he took a mouthful without bothering to blow on the steaming hot drink first, enjoying the warmth. He was an inquisitive man, one that could easily read a person's emotions like one of the books lying around his room. And he could figure out Madeleine's emotions as they played themselves out across her face.

"Ah," he said with an inquisitive nod, making Maddie glance up and raise an eyebrow while Katherine grinned slightly, having had been waiting for Ivan to say that. "You do not just wish to not get married but rather hope to be married to another, correct?"

She blinked her indigo eyes at his purple ones and she simply asked, not even bothering to deny it, "How did you-?"

"You are wearing the face of a maiden about to be separated from her true love," Ivan replied before saying, "It was a common expression worn on stage when I was in an acting company."

Madeleine offered no reply to this, slightly stunned that someone such as Ivan who she had barely known for ten minutes had guessed the cause of her grief while not even Elizaveta-who had been her long time friend-picked up on it.

After a pause, Ivan sighed in exasperation, "Well, are you going to enlighten us? Katyusha over there seems about to burst from curiosity."

The golden haired lady blinked at the maid, who stared at the two of them before glancing hurriedly away, a blush on her cheeks. "I suppose, but it is a rather long tale," Madeleine sighed as she gestured for Katherine to come over and sit with them so as to better hear the tale. She wasn't sure why exactly she had found herself trusting these people all of a sudden. A Russian singer and a gentle maid, the oddest of pairs; but yet, she was.

"We have quite a long time, da? I have nothing going on other than trying to muddle through the creation of yet another composition," Ivan said, glancing distastefully at the mound of sheet music that was scattered about the room.

"Well, first, you both must promise not to let any of my words stray to another's ears," Madeleine said and when both nodded their consent, she began, "Well it started about three months ago, when my maid, Elizaveta, and I went on a ride through the countryside…"

* * *

><p><strong>Act III, Scene VI<strong>

* * *

><p>"And a little less than a month ago, she told me she was betrothed and you know the rest," Alfred concluded his narrative to a rather distraught Felicia, who was on the verge of tears. It was the following day; both of them had set out from Nice at nine o'clock sharp after acquiring the auburn haired girl another horse.<p>

Early into the ride, Felicia noticed Alfred's state of deep thought, which had been caused by the Captain's story. After explaining it to the girl, it had naturally led into the telling of why he was in Arthur's office in the first place and then the whole story came out.

"That's so sad, Alfred!" she cried, tears in the corners of her caramel brown eyes as the pair rode past a platinum blond youth that was taking a break from travel and resting on the side of the road. "Did she just find out or had she known?"

"She just found out that day," Alfred sighed, all though his heavy heart felt lighter. Even though it still ached more than one's heart should ever ache, he felt at least a little better and that was most likely due to the fact that he had finally told someone of his sorrow.

"And she was crying?" Felicia asked, even though she knew the answer already. Alfred nodded mutely in response to this, staring at his horse's black mane in despair as he did. "Then that is very good, ve!"

Alfred raised his head to look at her skeptically, raising an eyebrow as he did. "How do you figure _that?"_

"Well, don't you see?" chirped Felicia, her gleeful smile unwavering, "It means she loves you." There was a pause of silence as Alfred just blinked at her. She sighed in about as much of an exasperated sigh as Felicia could, before repeating, "I said: _it means she loves you!"_

"I heard you," Alfred said, waving his hands at his friend, who had just shouted her last sentence at him.

"And?" Felicia demanded. "What are you going to do about it?"

Now it was his turn to sigh, but his more of sorrow than exasperation, "I can't do anything. She's an aristocrat and betrothed to another aristocrat. They're going to get married and I'll never see her again. Me loving Madeline won't change any of that. _Nothing_ I do will change that."

"Alfred," Felicia said, much more forcefully than one would have suspected from the petite auburn haired girl, "You can't think like that! Love is more powerful than any aristocrat, betrothal, or king! It can find a way for you and Maddie to be together but that's only going to happen if you don't take this lying down! You have to stand up, draw your sword, and look at her betrothed and shout 'en garde!'"

The blond haired young man blinked at his new friend but she wasn't nearly finished yet, "You are going to that wedding on a shining white horse, with the sun against your back, and sword unsheathed and gleaming! You are going to go right up to that alter, kiss her in front of all the courtiers and point your sword at her betrothed! And if he dares cross swords with you then you shall win your lady's hand fair and square!"

"Uh, Felicia, isn't that a little much?" squeaked Alfred, a little overwhelmed by the sudden ferocity and imagery of his friend's speech, even though half of him couldn't help but nod along and shout 'yeah!' in agreement to her points.

Felicia frowned at him, already having calmed down, and said, clueless, "No?"

Alfred just shook his head at her with a slight smile, "And I don't have a white horse."

Glancing down at his bay, Felicia's frown deepened and said, "That _is_ a problem isn't it?"

* * *

><p><strong>Act III, Scene VII<strong>

* * *

><p>Madeleine did not awaken to the sunlight streaming through her curtains; instead she woke to feeling extremely warm and comfortable. Her eyes fluttered open to find a sun tanned, muscular arm wrapped around her nightgown clad chest. "Alfred?" mumbled sleepily and somewhat happily, recognizing the calloused hands.<p>

She turned to her other side, expecting to see the sleeping face of Alfred, his golden hair mussed with strands falling in his face, but instead, she turned to see the sleeping faced of her betrothed. His skin pale unlike Alfred's, and his much lighter blond slicked severely back from his forehead. And then his piercing blue eyes flew open, staring right through her as if he _knew_.

Madeleine bolted up in her bed, panting and her face dripping with sweat. Hurriedly glancing around the still darkened room-the sun had yet to rise, it would seem-she saw she was quite alone. Breathing a sigh of relief, she flopped back onto her pillows, but refused to close her eyes again so soon. Instead she laid and stared up at the ceiling far above, letting her mind reply the events of the afternoon before that was most likely the cause of her dream.

After she spent the day with Ivan and Katherine yesterday-all though she supposed it was the day before yesterday now-Elizaveta had been keeping a close watch and an even tighter leash on her; only allowing her to be alone when it came time to sleep. Although, Madeleine knew she locked the door. Nonetheless, Eliza had nearly dragged her outside early yesterday afternoon to meet her betrothed 'among the flowers,' as her maid put it.

It all was, according to Elizaveta, highly romantic. And she'd know too, because she had been observing from a safe distance-probably to make sure that Madeleine didn't suddenly decide to run away again-the whole entire time. She knew that her maid had no idea why she had run, but it put Eliza on guard.

In any case, Madeleine would have agreed whole-heartedly with her maid that it indeed was romantic if she hadn't been actually involved. It had been one of the most awkward experiences of her life. And that was saying quite a bit. She would try to keep a conversation going, calling upon every ounce of knowledge from her etiquette lessons for conversation starters, while he replied with stiff, one-word answers. Despite her best efforts, it was awkward at best and she had run short of polite topics to discuss by the end of it.

The only bright spot of the day was when they came across Ivan-and a platinum blond servant that had been roped into helping him-as they strolled through the sunflower patch, who was collecting flowers for his room. Ivan was happy enough to chat with them for a minute or two; even doing them the favor of singing them a verse on his latest composition, which had been a welcomed break from trying to keep a drowning conversation afloat.

Madeleine sighed at the memories, her mind automatically shifting to the image of Alfred's smiling face as it defaulted to doing nowadays. Of him laughing at something she said, of him grinning whenever he told her of something clever he had done or of his adventures of that particular day. And then, the feeling and warmth of him holding him tightly, of his callused yet gentle hands cupping her face and then him ki-

She abruptly stopped there, not letting her thoughts continue on. She always stopped there. It hurt too much to think of what came after that and the news that went right on its heels.

Blinking away tears, Madeleine stared up at the ceiling for a moment longer. The white blankness of it seemed to stare back at her until she finally let her eyes flutter closed, hoping that, in the morning, she would forget her dream and thoughts but doubting she'd have any such luck.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Ivan wants you to leave a **review**, so leave one, da? (Also, if you didn't get the point of the Captain's little 'story'-aka past-its okay...there wasn't one :D)


	4. Act IV

**Warning:** This last chapter gets steadily more silly...prepare yourselves.

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene I<strong>

* * *

><p>"I cannot <em>begin<em> to tell you how grateful I am to you for coming along," Madeleine whispered to the tall, fair haired man as Eliza, sitting across the way from them, chattered on about something to do with dresses, which was her usual topic of choice.

"I am happy to oblige," Ivan replied, giving Eliza a weary look, already tired of the topic since it had been the one of interest to Eliza, who was holding a conversation all on her own ever since their departure from Versailles nearly an hour ago. "Although I could do without the monologue from your maid."

"She usually isn't like this, I swear," Madeleine whispered back before pausing and adding to that thought, "Or, at least she wasn't before the wedding." Ivan's only response was a small noise of annoyance.

"We're here!" tweeted Elizaveta as their carriage pulled to a stop in front of the dress shop. The platinum blond carriage driver hurried to open their door for them, and Elizaveta stepped onto the sunny Parisian street first, followed closely by Madeleine and then Ivan. After pause as both women straightened their skirts, Eliza spoke up, saying, "Madeleine, I don't think you'll be needed today. You and Monsieur Braginski may go to the café for lunch, if you wish."

"Ah, merci, Eliza," Madeleine grinned at her maid while the brown haired girl gave a hard look at the tall, purple-eyed man.

"Don't let her run off and keep her safe," she said him, her voice threatening all sorts of bodily harm if that didn't happen in the slightest of ways.

The two blonds watched the maid retreat into the shop, waiting until the door swung shut behind her before speaking. "Charming, isn't she?" Ivan deadpanned, making Madeleine glance up at him and shake her head, not helping to smile as she did.

"Come on then, you heard the woman, no running off," Madeleine sighed as they both turned and waited for their carriage to pull away from the curb so they could cross the busy cobblestone street. "Might as well get to the café."

"Maddie, I was thinking," Ivan said as they both glanced left and right, waiting for the traffic to thin enough to cross. Ever since their first meeting nearly a week ago, now, Ivan and Madeleine had become something of fast friends. After she told him the whole story, it seemed like he was the only one she could freely talk to anymore, other than Alfred that is. "Maybe we could go on a detour before we go to the café?"

"Detour where?" Madeleine prodded with slight curiosity as the two stepped off their perch on the curb and hurried across the street, dodging around an oncoming cart that was moving faster than expected and a rather flustered horseman.

Ivan waited to answer until the two were safely across the lane, panting slightly at the sudden burst of effort. "Its only a block or so away," he answered, trying to avoid explaining in full the 'detour.' Madeleine frowned at her taller friend and put her hands on her hip, tapping her foot and in a silent response that she expected more than that. Sighing, Ivan continued, "The Place de Musketeers."

"Ivan!" she squawked in surprise, "No way!" She stalked across the sidewalk and entered into their lunch destination-_Le Café de Vreneli_-with an air of finality as Ivan trailed behind her, looking only slightly put out.

"Table for two," Madeleine snapped at the bond haired youth when he asked, taking out her sudden frustration, and he led the pair to a table next to a window that overlooked the busy street they just darted across and dress shop on the other side.

"Madeleine, what if you saw him again and then things all just fell into place?" Ivan asked after scooting the chair out for her, allowing her to sit so she was facing the front the street and he took the other.

"I'm sorry to say that this isn't one of your love ballads, Ivan," Madeleine bit back. She didn't know why, but just the mere mention of the Musketeers had made her on edge. If she were to search for an explanation, it would probably be that all her frustration towards the wedding-only a month away-was being wrongly directed on unsuspecting victims.

"Maddie," Ivan said, blinking his large purple-eyes at her, trying to soothe her, "I'm sorry if I upset you. I'm just trying to help."

"I know," she mumbled with a sigh, "And I'm sorry for snapping on you all of a sudden. I…shouldn't have done that."

He blinked inquisitively at her for a moment and was about to reply when the waitress, a pretty blond young woman with twin braids and sharp green eyes appeared at their table. "Good afternoon and welcome to _Le Café de Vreneli_, what can I get you two?"

"I'd like a glass of grape juice and the special of today," Madeleine replied immediately, having come there often enough to know exactly what she wanted.

Ivan, who had never been there before, just decided to play it safe, and said, "I'll have the same."

"Alright, I'll have that right up," the waitress said before she retreated to the kitchen to put their orders in. As she disappeared, the bell above the front door jingled and Madeleine glanced up to see a familiar albino trailed by a smiling brown haired man enter the café.

"Oh Lord," she squeaked, her voice raising an octave or two as she frantically glanced around for something to hid behind. She wished her and Ivan's spots were switched or that she could _at least_ dive behind her abnormally tall friend to hide.

"What? What is it?" the purple-eyed man asked as he turned to look and see what had caused his friend to become frantic all of a sudden, being very conspicuous while doing so.

"Don't turn and look! It'll draw their attention!" Madeleine reprimanded him in a whisper.

"Who are they?" Ivan questioned, although he did have a hunch.

"They're Alfred's partners and the two other musketeers that rescued me," Madeleine explained, although Ivan knew that perfectly well already. Madeleine had gone to great pains to describe every minute detail of her rescue from when she recounted her story.

"Ah, Monsieurs Gilbert and Antonio," Ivan nodded, saying this louder than necessary and drawing the attention of the two men that were chatting with the host, which was all apart of Ivan's plan.

"They're coming over," Madeleine squeaked, her voice even higher than before. Ivan just gave her a smile that spoke volumes and she narrowed her indigo eyes at him, but she never had a chance to question him.

"Did I hear someone say our names?" the albino-Gilbert-ask as he and his companion reached their small table.

"Yes, my friend, the Mademoiselle de Bonnefoy, was commenting about how she recognized you both when you came in. She was telling me of your bravery three months ago in her rescue," Ivan said smoothly, smiling politely up at the albino and his green eyed friend.

"Ah, si! You're Mademoiselle Madeleine!" the green-eyed and brown haired musketeer said, a smile spreading across his face, "You're Francis' daughter."

"You knew my Papa?" Madeleine asked in shock, the surprise of this making her forget momentarily about her embarrassment.

"Ja," Gilbert nodded, "He used to be the Captain of the Musketeers before Artie."

"I wouldn't let the Captain hear you call him Artie, Gil," snickered Antonio.

"Ah, the Captain can deal with it," the albino shrugged back, nonchalantly.

"Is this Captain the Monsieur de Kirkland?" inquired Ivan, another agenda having been cooked up in his surprisingly devious mind.

"The very same," Antonio nodded with a carefree grin.

"What a coincidence! I am a childhood friend of the Arthur's! How is he doing?" Ivan asked. Madeleine shot him a warning look, but Ivan ignored it.

"Really?" Antonio asked, blinking his large green eyes at the blond man.

"Da," Ivan nodded, "He visited my homeland of Russia for a year or so and we were friends." Now Madeleine raised an eyebrow. Was he telling the _truth?_

"You don't say? I never took the Captain for a globetrotter," Gilbert asked, sounding truly interested as he snagged a chair from a table nearby and plopped down, joining their small table, with Antonio soon following his example. "How was he when he was kid?"

"Ah well, he had a very short temper…" Ivan began and, as it would turn out, he _did _in fact know the Captain when he was a boy. To top it all off, by the end of their lunch, they were being accompanied by the Musketeers to the Place de Musketeers to see Monsieur Arthur de Kirkland.

"So, Monsieur Carriedo?" Madeleine said as she fell into step with the brown haired musketeer, both Ivan and Gilbert walking ahead of them, still chattering animatedly, as the four journeyed back to the Place de Musketeers.

"Si?" Antonio replied, cocking his head slightly like a curious dog.

"Where is the third man of your group? The blond one?" she asked, trying to be as casual as possible although on the inside, she was burning with curiosity. She understood if Alfred just stopped coming to see her after her little _announcement_, even _she_ wouldn't come to see herself after that, but it certainly was odd that he wasn't with his partners.

"Alfred?" Antonio asked rhetorically before continuing on, "The Captain sent him on a mission to Nice to escort a lady home to her chateau. He's actually supposed to arrive back later on today."

"Oh really?" Madeleine asked, trying to keep the faintness out of her voice. What if Ivan was right? What if she did see him and everything just fell into place? Or what if she saw him and he didn't so much as look at her twice? Not even look her way? She honestly didn't know if she would be able to take that.

By then, they had reach the Place de Musketeer and Gilbert had led them through the courtyard and up the stairs that led to the main entrance, announcing as he went, "The Captain will be excited to see you and if not, we're still going to go visit him! He's holed up in his office too much and visitors are always good for him!"

"Is that your opinion or his?" asked Ivan, in amusement.

Gilbert smirked his signature smirk and said, "Mine of course!"

"That's the only opinion he'll ever listen to, si?" quipped Antonio as the four disappeared through the doors of the building, Gilbert's cry of protest echoing into the courtyard as the door shut behind them.

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene II<strong>

* * *

><p>"Wow, Paris!" Felicia breathed as she swiveled her head around so as to try and see everything all at once. The pair were guiding their horses through the busy cobblestone streets of Paris, very close to the Place de Musketeers at that point.<p>

"If you keep turning your head around like that, your neck's going to get stuck," Alfred chuckled at his auburn haired friend before adding, "Are you sure you don't want to be dropped off at Lovina's first?"

"No, no," Felicia replied stubbornly shaking her head, "You need to get back the Musketeers to report in as soon as possible and I don't mind waiting."

"Well if you're sure," Alfred shrugged. He didn't exactly know what was going on inside the young woman's mind, but then again, this _was_ Felicia he was talking about and it was impossible to say what kind of things were _ever_ going on side her head-if there was anything at all.

"Ah, there it is," Alfred said, gesturing to the high stonewalls and portcullis that led from the street to the courtyard. "Slow down so you can turn and to tell others to let you across."

Felicia did as she instructed and she turned her horse easily into the portcullis, with Alfred and his bay following close behind. The two horses clopped into the stone courtyard, many musketeers that milled around waving and calling greetings to Alfred as they made their way across.

The blond musketeer smiled and waved back brightly while Felicia watched with amusement. This was a different side of Alfred than the one she had seen most of their journey back from Nice, and she got the feeling this was the _real _Alfred, one that was friendly and charming compared to the lovesick and melancholy one he had been. 'And,' she thought, 'if this was how he is around his friends, imagine how happy he'll be with his girlfriend!'

She grinned to herself as the two halted their horses and Felicia easily slid off her chocolate brown filly, stretching her legs out just a bit as she did. "Do you ant to wait out her, then, Feli?" asked Alfred as he took his and her horse and tied their reins to the post just to the right of the door, waiting to stable them for now.

"Ve?" Felicia asked, glancing over at him, a little surprised as she had been preoccupied with her thoughts before she nodded and said, "Oh yes, I'll just be out here. If anything should happen, there's a lot of men around to protect me, ve!"

Alfred blinked at his friend but didn't point out how flirtatious that sounded as Felicia glanced around the other musketeers, smiling brightly at them while they all returned her look with a wink. Al just shook his head and said, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

He turned to head up the stairs of the Place de Musketeers, just as the door opened and out stepped into the sun walked a group of familiar faces. "Alfred!" cheered the first man and there was a flash of white as Gilbert nearly tacked his blond friend.

Laughing, Alfred fended the albino off, saying, "Hey Gilbert!"

"Ah, Alfred, mi amigo!" Antonio greeted as he too hurried over to the third member of the trio. "You've returned to us! How was your trip?"

"Pretty relaxed, actually," Alfred replied before motioning to Feli to come up the stairs to meet his friends, "And I met Felicia, Lovina's sister in Nice and we traveled up together."

"Ah, si! Lovi has told me about you!" Antonio smiled at Feli before throwing his arms around her and giving her a suffocating hug while Gilbert laughed and Alfred tried to dodge being smacked by Feli when Antonio started to spin her around.

"Ve! Nice to meet you too, Antonio!" giggled Felicia as they spun, not seeming too concerned that she could barely breath.

Alfred grinned at his friends but then his smile froze in place as another familiar person stepped into the courtyard, her golden hair gleaming in the early afternoon sun. He blinked his cerulean eyes at her and indigo eyes mirrored. The whole world seemed to become utterly noiseless and everyone else froze. Alfred's breath caught in his throat, subconsciously afraid that she'd disappear if he were to even move in the slightest.

And then, another fair-haired person stepped out from the doorway. He was tall with the lightest of blond hair that Alfred had ever seen and the strangest purple eyes that almost appeared inhuman. He immediately focused on Alfred; following Maddie's gaze to him, and a knowing smile spread across his face.

Finally Gilbert noticed where Alfred was looking, after being previously preoccupied with Felicia and Antonio, "Huh?" he asked before blinking his red eyes at the two and saying, in that loud, obnoxious voice, "Oh! Alfred this is Mademoiselle de Bonnefoy, you know the one we saved a few months back? Her friend there, Monsieur Braginski is from Russia and apparently knew the Captain when he was a kid. They just went up to visit him. And Mademoiselle and Monsieur, this is Alfred F. Jones"

"Oh," Alfred replied very intelligently, before smiling his charming smile and sweeping his hat off his golden hair, saying, "A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Braginski, any friend of the Captain's is ours as well. And seeing you as well Mademoiselle de Bonnefoy."

"Da, same to you," Ivan nodded to Alfred with a small nod while Madeleine simply nodded in acknowledgement of him. He waited a moment, blinking his purple eyes at his friend in anticipation of her doing or say something, but when she remained silent, he just continued, "Well, I think the Mademoiselle and I better return to Elizaveta, our other companion. We left her with the promise we wouldn't wander off and it seems we've done that."

"Ah, then we'll see you later than?" Antonio asked, cheerfully grinning at the pair.

"Da," Ivan simply nodded before offering his arm to Madeleine and she took it mutely. "Come on, Maddie, Eliza's going to murder us both if we don't get back to the dress shop," he told her, trying his hand at a joke to lighten his friend's mood, but only got a slight smirk for his efforts.

"Ve?" Felicia said as she tailed them across the courtyard, abandoning the musketeers to talk with one another, "Did you say dress shop? Would it happen to be one owned by Lovina?"

"Yes, the very same," Madeleine finally spoke up, offering a reply when Ivan glanced at her questioningly.

"Ve! I'll go with you both then!" Felicia proclaimed, "One moment, I need to get my pack." Almost a moment later, Felicia was back beside them, a leather pack slung over her shoulder and a bright smile still on her face. "Let's go then!"

The three set off, Felicia leading the conversation as the entered back onto the street, "So, if you both don't mind me asking, how long have you two been betrothed?"

"Huh?" Ivan asked, looking a little affronted but mostly just confused.

"Oh, no, Ivan is just a very dear friend of mine," Madeleine clarified, patting Ivan's arm slightly with her hand that was looped through it, making her very tall friend glance down at her with that conspiring look of his.

"Ve? Then who are you betrothed to?" Felicia asked, it seeming her turn to be confused.

Madeleine's brow furrowed, "Who told you I was betrothed?"

"Oh uh," she floundered, biting her lip and wringing her hands nervously, knowing she was caught. "Um, uh, it was, uh…," She trailed off weakly.

Ivan looked down his rather large beak-ish nose at the much shorter auburn haired woman and guessed, "It wouldn't be your blond haired musketeer friend, would it? Alfred, wasn't his name?"

"Um, no, no, definitely not him," Felicia waved off, trying to sound convincing but failing miserably at it. She chanced a glance back at Ivan and Madeleine only to find them both wearing identical looks of disbelief. "Alright, alright! It was Alfred! But I couldn't help but ask! You're all he ever talked about and his story is just so heartbreaking that I just _had_ to ask!"

"Wait, what did he tell you?" Madeleine implored, stopping dead in her tracks.

"Ve…?" she thought out loud, blinking her caramel brown eyes at the beautiful golden haired lady and said, "Everything."

"Everything as in from the kidnapping?" Ivan prodded, seeing as Madeleine seemed to have gone into a state of shock as he started walking once more, making the two immediately start following him.

"Yes," Felicia nodded, before adding as she ducked around Ivan to walk next to Madeleine and clasped her hands, saying, "Madeleine, he really, _truly _loves you."

Madeleine stood there for a moment, completely lost for words. She could see that Felicia believed every word she was saying, the honesty showing in her warm brown eyes, but she didn't know how she could possibly reply. She wanted to reassure this girl that she too loved him, but how could she actually say such a thing when she was to be married to another in less than a month?

"Madeleine!" a sudden shout cut in before Maddie could even think on a reply. The trio turned to see a rather distressed Eliza stomping across the street towards, looking like her nerves were frayed and she was at wit's end. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"

"Oh, uh, sorry Eliza," Madeleine replied lamely but before she could say anything else, her maid had gotten a hold of her and she was being quite forcefully dragged across the street, Ivan following along looking a little helpless about what to do. Felicia watched them go with a growing look of sorrow on her face. Like she had seen the future of Madeleine and it didn't look bright.

"Ve! I'll see you later, Madeleine!" she called after the girl, who simply waved in response, not knowing much else she could do before she was shoved into the carriage and the door shut her off from the Parisian streets and the distressed Felicia.

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene III<strong>

* * *

><p>Ludwig, followed by his very slim and slightly intimidated platinum blond haired tailor, strode down the busy Parisian street, the two making their way towards a white bricked dress shop. "Come along," the stern blond haired man called over his shoulder to the scurrying man behind him.<p>

Being the, slight, control freak that he was, Ludwig was tagging along with his personal tailor to the meeting with his betrothed's seamstress, where they were to compare their color schemes. But, at this point with the poor tailor hurrying along behind him, it seemed quite the opposite.

As they walked, a loud shout came from across the street and Ludwig briefly paused to see a smiling and frantically waving blond clad in a musketeer's blue across the lane. "Ludwig! Ludwig!"

"Guten tag, Alfred," Ludwig called back.

"Where you going?" Alfred called as he hurried across the street to the aristocrat and the tailor.

"To the dress shop to meet with my betrothed's seamstress," Ludwig replied stiffly as the three set off once more.

"Ah, can I come along? If I stay for another second cooped up back at the Place de Musketeer, I might just explode," Alfred explained to his friend animatedly.

Deciding not to point out to his friend that he seemed like he was _always_ about to explode, but usually from excitement, Ludwig just asked, "What's the problem?"

"I just saw this girl I like with her betrothed," Alfred replied, sounding a little mopey before he perked up and said, "But, you're going to Lovina's dress shop right?"

"Ja, it's the best in all of Paris, apparently," Ludwig replied, not seeming all too concerned with Alfred's love problems. Relationships of that nature didn't concern him all that much. He had grown up knowing that his father would pick his bride for him-turns out he was already betrothed-and he never bothered himself with it.

"It is! And one of my friends works there! She's Lovina's sister and really nice," Alfred enthused as the trio came to a halt in front of the white bricked dress shop and filed in, Ludwig leading the way.

They waited patiently for a minute or two as Lovina finished up with another patron before bustling over to them, her businesswoman's smile on her face. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," she greeted.

"Hey Lovi!" Alfred said back with a bright smile. Lovina glanced at him as she accepted Ludwig's hand to shake.

"Hello, Madame Lovina. I'm Monsieur de Strasbourg and this is my personal tailor. We have a one o'clock appointment," Ludwig introduced smoothly.  
>"Ah yes," Lovina nodded in understanding before leading the three over to the chairs set in the shop, gesturing for them all to take a seat as she said, "To go over color schemes, correct?" The tailor nodded in response to this, timidly chancing a glance at Ludwig as he did. "I'll have Felicia bring out the party dresses and the project folder. I would show you the wedding gown, but its bad luck for the groom to see it."<p>

Lovina excused herself and disappeared behind a door into the backroom only to have another auburn haired woman, her hair lighter than Lovina's, to appear and hurry over to them with a bright smile, a folder of sketches and fabric samples inside.

"Ve! Alfred! I didn't know you'd be here!" Felicia smiled at her friend as she reached them.

"Hello Felicia! I didn't know I'd be here either until I saw Ludwig, here. Felicia this is Ludwig, by the way, and Ludwig this is Felicia, one of my good friends," Alfred introduced the two.

Felicia's face immediately lit into a bright smile, "Ah! You're Alfred's friend from Strasbourg! He's told me so many good things about you! He says that you are an excellent swordsman and that you cook a very good sausage, which is really impressive because I always burn meat whenever I try to cook it, ve! _But_ I'm very good at making pasta, ve!"

As Felicia spoke, Ludwig's ears began to turn steadily red until they were a crimson, which was the only way one could tell when the usually stoic man was embarrassed. Alfred glanced from his blond friend to his auburn haired friend, a smile forming on his face. He would have squealed-well not _squealed_ since that wasn't altogether heroic-if he didn't bit the knuckle of his pointer finger, as he wrapped his hand in a fist.

"Well, I haven't cooked in a long time," Ludwig replied in a mumble.

"I bet you're still very good! My Nonno said that once you learn how to do something, you never truly forget it! Although, he did teach me this joke once, but I can never remember how it begins-" Felicia rambled but was cut off by her sister entering the room.

"There you are Felicia!" proclaimed Lovina as she bustled over to them before reprimanding her sister, "Don't bother the customers, Felicia! And would you bring out the gray and indigo silk gowns?"

The younger sister nodded, saluting her older sister, and said, "Yes ma'am!" before vanishing through the door.

"I'm terribly sorry about her," Lovina said, turning back to her customers with an apologetic smile.

"That's alright, she's quite charming," Ludwig reassured the woman, answering a little too quickly, making Alfred grin knowingly at him.

Lovina paused to blink at the stern blond man-his ears still scarlet-before she continued, sliding the sketches out of the folder and spreading them out on the little tea table amongst all their chairs. "There are three party gowns and so far we have the gray and indigo complete," she explained, tapping her long, slender finger on the sketches of the gowns.

Just then, Felicia returned laden with two gowns that she carefully hung onto the hooks on the wall so as to let them be viewed in all their splendor. They were both beautiful and elegant in their own ways; the gray had the layered skirts so as to give the illusion of the dress having a very wide skirt, even thought it didn't, while the stain glass embroidery was truly breathtaking with all the vibrant colors. As for the indigo, the way it was sewn, it made it look like it was bolts of silk all twisting away from a golden silk flower at the hip.

As Felicia passed by them to return to her work, she slipped a note into Alfred's hand without any of the others noticing. It took a few minutes before Alfred was positive that no one's attention was on him and he slightly shifted so that they couldn't see what he was doing; carefully unfolding the note to read Felicia's scrawled handwriting inside.

He scanned the note quickly, rereading it only once to make sure he read it correctly before leaning back with a sigh of relief while a look of slight confusion came across his face. 'If that Ivan fellow isn't Maddie's betrothed, than who is it?'

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene IV<strong>

* * *

><p>"I can't believe we have to escort the stupid dignitary from England through Paris and all the way to Versailles," Gilbert grumbled as he and Antonio rode along the side of the road, both hunched in their saddles and bearing the expressions only to be described as extreme boredom.<p>

"Better not let the Captain hear you say that, Gil, he's half stupid English," snickered Antonio, chancing a glance at the blond haired Captain of the Musketeers that rode not to far ahead of them, directly in front of the dignitaries ornate carriage.

"Ah, let him! I don't see why we got stuck on this stupid assignment and Al gets to have day off," Gilbert complained, not at all happy that the third member of their trio had gotten to have the day off from work.

"He _did_ go to Nice," Antonio pointed out, although he couldn't help slightly agreeing with his friend.

"A week ago!" Gilbert protested as the carriage and the Musketeer guard turned through the gates of Versailles and clopped through the great stone courtyard. The albino, although fond of horseback riding, was not one for 'unnecessary work,' as he referred to it as, that the Musketeers were roped into doing. He thought it a little ridiculous that the Musketeers were always called upon to be the honor guard of any visiting dignitary that happened to roll into town, but that was only when he was assigned to said guard. In any case, when Gilbert started to complain, no one listened to him, so it hardly mattered.

"Lighten up, there, Gil," Antonio laughed as the carriage continued farther into the courtyard and the Captain called them to a halt, motioning for them to get off their horses for a moment if they so wished. The two musketeers slid off their horses, Antonio saying, "You don't have to be grumpy just because you're lazy."

"What are you implying there?" Gilbert demanded, narrowing his red eyes at his friend who just laughed.

"Oh nothing, nothing at all!" laughed Antonio, waving his had at his companion. "But, mi amigo, we're in Versailles for a half an hour at least! We must go explore the gardens! Lovina would kill me if we didn't bring back a bouquet of roses for her!"

"Honestly, Antonio," Gilbert said, as the two wandered away, leaving their horses in the care of a platinum blond stable boy, who bustled about the courtyard. "We're at the _palace_ full of beautiful women and you're only thinking of the _flowers_?"

"Ah, si?" Antonio blinked at his albino friend before adding with a barking laughter as he caught onto the joke, "You and I both know that Lovi and Vreni would murder us if they found out we even _thought _that."

"The sad part of that, is that it is true," Gilbert snorted as the two rounded a corner of the palace and the gardens came into view. Before either could take a step further, a heavy hand came to rest on their shoulders and dragged them forcibly backwards, pulling them into a shaded alcove protected from sight by a finely trimmed hedge.

"Ah! What the heck?" Gilbert protested while Antonio said something along the same lines as both turned to see a tall fair-haired man blinking down at him with determination gleaming in his purple eyes.

Antonio blinked his green eyes at the man, the confusion and protest vanishing from his face and saying with his bright smile, "Ah! It's Monsieur Braginski!"

"That was really creepy though," Gilbert mumbled under his breath but neither of the other men seemed to hear.

"Please call me Ivan," the taller man said to the musketeers, waving his hand like he was batting the formalities away. "Listen, I sought you two out for your aid in a plan of mine but first, I must tell you both something very important."

"What does this plan entail?" Gilbert asked, his red eyes narrowed as his interest was immediately piqued.

"Quiet, Gilbert, listen to what he has to say first!" Antonio shushed before the two men turned their gazes back to the Russian.

Ivan paused but then said, quite bluntly, "Your friend, Alfred, is in love with the Mademoiselle Madeleine."

"What?" both musketeers shouted in shock.

"And she loves him back," Ivan continued, ignoring their question.

"What?" they chorused once again.

"But she is betrothed."

"What?"

"To Monsieur Ludwig de Strasbourg."

"What?"

"And we're going to stop the wedding!" Ivan announced

"What?"

"By getting them together!"

"What?"

"I think if they find the courage to talk with the Monsieur de Bonnefoy then he'll agreed," the tallest of the three men said, voicing his musings.

"What?"

"Well he _is_ somewhat of a romantic," Ivan reasoned.

"That's true," Antonio nodded.

Gilbert just said, "What?"

The brown haired musketeer sighed and elbowed his companion in the ribs, saying, "Enough of that, Gilbert."

"Alright, alright," Gilbert laughed before turning once again back to Ivan and asking, "But really, are you sure of this, Ivan?"

"Positive," the purple eyed man nodded in confirmation, "I have heard the whole tale from the Mademoiselle's own mouth. I saw the honesty and truth of it in her eyes, and it was possibly the most heartbreaking story I've ever heard."

"And do we know that Alfred feels the same?" Gilbert questioned, a white eyebrow arched.

"Ah, come on, Gil. It all makes sense now! That's why he's been so out of it for awhile," Antonio said, shoving his companion slightly once more. "It's because he's in deep and true love."

Gilbert just rolled his eyes at the sappiness of his friend but couldn't help but nodding in agreement. It did make sense; the faraway look in his eyes, the tiredness and distraction, and, as of late, the antsy and jittery moods. Their blond friend would skulk around the Place de Musketeers for hours on end, showing the sad resemblance of a puppy left out in the rain and then there'd be times when he was nowhere to be found whatsoever.

"But she's getting married to Ludwig, si?" asked Antonio before pausing and taking in a deep gasp, "That makes so much sense now!"

"What is it?" Gilbert asked, while Ivan just gave him a curious look.

"Lovina was saying that she had met with Ludwig the other day. She also said that he seemed to take an immediate liking to Felicia," Antonio explained before adding for Ivan's sake, "Lovina is my wife and owner of dress shop, she's designing the Mademoiselle's wedding gown and party gowns. I suppose Ludwig was meeting to find out colors for his own wedding suit. I never put two and two together that Ludwig is betrothed and the Mademoiselle is betrothed at the same time, making them engaged to one another."

"Well Alfred hasn't either," Gilbert pointed out, before adding, "Otherwise he wouldn't be talking about Ludwig quite so much or still meet up with him for lunch, would he?"

"That's true!" Antonio gasped while Gilbert just nodded smugly and Ivan rolled his eyes at the two other men, deciding they both were rather slow on the uptake.

"Anyway, continuing," Ivan sighed, "I was thinking that we simply need to let them reunite and then get them to go talk to Monsieur de Bonnefoy."

"And get Felicia and Ludwig to meet up with them too," Gilbert added with a nod, in that scheming way of his.

"Ah, si!" Antonio immediately grinned, "Ludwig obviously took a shine to Felicia-if his red ears like Lovi said is anything to go off of! But he wouldn't be with her, he's one of those fellows with an annoyingly high sense of duty, but if he finds out that the Mademoiselle is in love with another and doesn't want to get married than he will be able to like Felicia and not be such a stiff!"

"I would call him more 'stoic' then 'stiff,'" Gilbert mused.  
>"It doesn't matter!" Ivan interrupted, "All we have to do is get all four people to meet at the café across from Lovina's dress shop and then everything will work out."<p>

"Oh, Vreni's café!" Antonio said, unnecessarily, "Si, si!"

"Wait, what makes you so sure this will work?" Gilbert asked, frowning slightly at the taller man.

"Because," Ivan said with a deviant smirk, "I'm the Russian matchmaker."

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene V<strong>

* * *

><p>Madeleine wasn't too sure why Ivan was being so insistent on them going into Paris that particular day, and, even though it was terribly suspicious, she couldn't help feeling a little relieved that he had suggested it. Now with the wedding barely two weeks away and the lead up parties starting in under a week, Eliza had become even more overbearing than before, which Maddie would have deemed impossible just a four days ago.<p>

Nonetheless, she breathed a contented sigh as she stepped onto the sidewalks just outside her new favorite café, _Le Café de Vreneli_, with Ivan following her out of the carriage, a triumphant smile on his face that Madeleine would have seen had she turned to look at her friend at that moment, but instead, she just said without bothering to look at him, "What do you have planned after lunch?"

"It's a surprise," Ivan replied cryptically. Madeleine finally glanced over her shoulder to give her taller friend a smile and slightly raised eyebrow of question. Truthfully, Ivan had nothing planned after lunch because he already had a scheme planned _for_ lunch. "Shall we?" asked Ivan as he offered his arm to his golden haired friend.

The two set off across the short stretch of sidewalk and into the café's doors after pausing only briefly enough to allow a platinum blond young man hurry by. Laurent, who was told to be on look-out for a 'tall, creepy blond haired guy with even creepier purple eyes' by Gilbert, immediately smiled upon seeing their entry and showed them to the small private room in the back.

At the round table inside the room, all the seats were already taken except for two, and upon walking into the room, Ivan abandoned his position next to Madeleine so as to occupy one of the seats and forcing her to choose the only other one. Across from the door she just entered, Madeleine recognized Felicia, Lovina's sister, and to her right was Ludwig, who looked stiff and awkward. On the other side of Ludwig was the albino musketeer, Gilbert, and the owner of the café, Vreneli, then Antonio, Lovina, the Captain of the Musketeers, Ivan, an empty chair, and then-

"Alfred," she breathed. For a moment they locked gazes and the whole room seemed to hold their breath. Then, her face flushed an embarrassed red at all the people staring at her, but she smiled her barely-there smile at him and made her way over to the seat and gracefully slid in. They both held one another's gazes for another moment but glanced away once they seemed to realize they were staring. Under the table, Alfred's hand immediately found Madeleine's.

"Can we start, already? I have a shop to get back to," Lovina's grumpy voice pierced the silence, making a few occupants of the table chuckle while others that weren't quite so used to Lovina when she wasn't being a polite businesswoman just blinked at her in surprise.

"Da, let's," Ivan agreed before turning to everyone and saying, "Hello, everyone. I'm Ivan Braginski, the one that came up with this whole plan. You all are here because you care about these four people very much and their futures."

The fair-haired man gestured to Alfred and Madeleine-who were stealing glances at one another-and then Felicia and Ludwig-the blonde's ears already crimson while Felicia just smiled her bright grin at him. The four gazed at him with a questioning look in their eyes, but he continued on without heed of them, "Let's introduce ourselves first, shall we?"

"I'm the Captain of the Musketeers, Monsieur Arthur de Kirkland," the blond man sitting next on the other side of Ivan started off. The rest of the table went around and said their names, although most were already known to the rest.

Ivan then picked up where he left, "Now, onto the reason we are here. As some of you may know, Alfred and Maddie are in love, to put it bluntly, but the problem is that Maddie is betrothed, unbeknownst to her until a little less than a month ago, to Ludwig."

"Wait, what?" Alfred interrupted, blinking at his blond haired friend in shock, "_You _were Madeleine's betrothed," he paused and glanced at the girl next to him, "And you were his?"

The betrothed couple nodded mutely, both seeming about as unpleased by this fact as Alfred was. Ivan watched this drama unfold before continuing once all the blonds were quieted, "And we are all here today so as to figure out how to exactly go about making both these couples are together."

"Hold on," the Captain interrupted, "I have two things to say. One is that, Alfred, I thought we told you about what this would lead to! But yet you ignored us! We told you ignore you're feelings but yet here we are! I even told you the consequences, but you didn't listen. Maybe if I said 'heartbreak' you would have listened, hmm? Not meaning you any disrespect, Mademoiselle."

Alfred opened his mouth to say something in response before closing his mouth slowly with a slightly sheepish look while Madeleine just nodded her acknowledgement of Arthur's apology. She didn't blame him, she could guess that Alfred couldn't think of anything else other than her after her initial rescue-even _she_ could tell he was smitten upon their first meeting, then again, she was too-but she understood the Captain's argument as well, since they would never be able to be together because of the class divisions. Plus, the Captain probably didn't want his musketeer's thoughts on anything other than musketeer work.

Instead, the answer came from another of the Captain's men, the brown haired one in place of the blond one. Antonio spoke up, saying, "But Captain this is true love and it only happens once in a lifetime, you can't just throw it on the wayside!" He glanced at Lovina at the end of his plea, who was fighting very hard from blushing and tried to hide her embarrassment by shoving him slightly.

Arthur mumbled slightly at this response, saying something about how he was surrounded by a bunch of love struck fools, but didn't offer any other reply.

Finally, Ivan spoke up once more, saying, "And the other thing, Arthur?"

"Well, you've only mentioned how this whatever-we're-doing-here is going to help the Mademoiselle and Alfred, but what about Monsieur de Strasbourg and Mademoiselle Vargas?"

"Ah, that's right," Ivan nodded.

Alfred spoke up now, "I can answer this one." He turned to his blond haired friend with a determined look on his face, "Ludwig, have you ever blushed in your life because of a girl? And answer truthfully."

Ludwig took a moment to think, not knowing what his friend was getting at, but doing as he was told. There was a moment before he finally said, "Nein."

"Ah, but you have," Alfred said, giving him that knowing grin of his before he turned back to the rest of the table like he was making an announcement to them. "You see, I was there the first day Ludwig ever met Felicia and his ears were red as beets, as they are now! Which, if I know Ludwig and I like to think I do after ten years of being friends, that means he likes her."

Felicia smiled at Ludwig at her side and he only looked back with an odd expression on his face, his ears turning redder by the moment. That was an obvious 'yes' from the usually stoic man.

"But what about the lady?" Arthur prodded, not giving up on being the cynical one-someone had to be.

"Felicia won't _shut up_ about him," Lovina supplied now, grumpily, "It's 'potato bastard this' and 'potato bastard that.' It's annoying."

"That's Lovi's nickname for Ludwig," Antonio added for the few occupants at the table that were momentarily confused.

"Ve! Ludwig, you like me?" Felicia asked, blinking her large caramel brown eyes up at the blond man, finally picking up on what was going on and it made a large, warm smile appear on her face. "Because I think I like you already too! You are a really nice person and determined and organized and funny and-"

"Ja, I like you too," Ludwig managed to mumble. Alfred watched the exchanged with amusement, he didn't know how Felicia figured out 'funny' for his friend, since, in his opinion, Ludwig had about as much of a sense of humor as a piece of wood but for some reason, it seemed like they were already each other's perfect match. Exactly as his initial thoughts in Nice told him.

"As much as I don't believe in that 'love at first sight' rubbish, what's the plan?" the Captain asked after moment in which everyone blinked at Felicia and Ludwig, "I want to help."

"Danke, Captain!" Gilbert finally burst out; it was a miracle he had stayed quiet thus far, a grin that stretched from ear to ear coming across his face.

"Don't push it Beillschmidt," Arthur shot back.

Ivan, who watched the exchange with that mildly amused look on his face, finally interrupted the battle of wills between the Captain and albino, asking, "What about everyone else?"

"Si, si!" Antonio nodded, "Lovi and I are helping."

"Stop putting words into my mouth," Lovina grumped at her husband but didn't offer any protest for their offering of aid.

"And we're helping," Vreneli answered for both her and her fiancé, who had been observing the whole conversation thus far in silence, deciding what to make of the situation.

"Wonderful," Ivan said, his happy smile now in place on his face. Now he turned to Madeleine and Alfred next to him, "Now are you two sure you want to do this? It would mean not doing your duty as a daughter, Madeleine leaving behind her life of privilege and taking a whole new identity."

Madeleine blinked her indigo eyes back up at the man before she turned to look at Alfred and then over to Ludwig, and she said, "Ludwig, its not that you aren't a horrible person or anything-you're really nice-but I love Alfred and I think I'm going to be selfish and say I don't want to lose him."

"Danke, Madeleine," Ludwig said, a somewhat relieved look on his face, "I think you're a lovely young lady as well and I look forward to you and Alfred's wedding."

"So I take that as you two are going through with this plan?" Ivan prodded and all four of the young people nodded. He knew that would be their answer. "Then the first step of the plan is for you and Alfred to go and speak with Monsieur de Bonnefoy."

Alfred and Madeleine gulped simultaneously, their grasp on each other's hands tightening, "Why?" Madeleine managed to squeak out. That was the _last_ person she wanted to talk to about this; she couldn't imagine what kind of reaction he would have to the news. She didn't want to disappoint him either.

"Francis is such a romantic, he'll support you guys one hundred percent," Gilbert said, giving he young couple a smile and wink.

Taking a deep breath to steal his courage, Alfred nodded his agreement to the plan, squeezing Madeleine's hand reassuringly as he did. She glanced over at him and nodded her consent as well. The purple-eyed man said, "Lovely! So, for today, let's depart for Versailles!"

"We're going _today_?" chorused Alfred and Madeleine but Ivan's only response was to stand and leave the room. Soon the other's filed out, some giving the two comforting pats on the shoulder while others just simply strode out-like the Captain-who looked a little miffed that he was kept out the loop up until this point.

Finally, the two were the only one's left and Madeleine slipped her hand out of Alfred's and stood, saying bravely, "We better get going, shouldn't we?"

Alfred hurried to his feet as Madeleine moved towards the door, saying, "Maddie wait." She stopped and turned to blink at him but then he had a hand cupping her cheek and he gently kissed her. It wasn't an altogether long kiss, but it certainly was passionate and loving. Finally when Alfred pulled slightly back, he smiled as they pressed their foreheads together, "I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene VI<strong>

* * *

><p>"Don't worry, I'll be right outside if anything should happen," Ivan reassured the couple as Francis' cranky platinum blond serving boy opened the door to allow the two to enter the Monsieur's office.<p>

"What are you expecting to happen?" Alfred questioned the taller man but he didn't get an answer as Ivan gently shoved the two through the door, giving them a merry wave before the serving boy shut the door.

"Ah! Madeleine!" smiled the wavy blond haired man that sat behind the tasteful desk in the center of the office as he looked up from his work to see the two standing in the center of the room. "And-?" The Monsieur's gaze then fell on their clasped hands and an eyebrow was raised in question.

"Papa, this Monsieur Alfred F. Jones of the Musketeers," Madeleine started, gathering her courage about her.

"Hmm," Francis said, giving the two a critical look before saying, "Well I do sense you two have a long kept secret to share with me. Please sit." The two did as they were told, taking a seat but never loosing their grip on each other's hands. "Please start from the beginning."

Alfred took a gulp and then started off the story, "Well, Monsieur, it all started three months ago when the Captain assigned me and my two partners, Antonio and Gilbert, to the rescue of your daughter…" Francis listened intently to the story that the young couple took turns telling, Alfred telling of the banquet and then Madeleine of their first nighttime meeting. They didn't go into much detail most of the time, unless Francis prodded them for it-like how the night guard never seemed to notice them-but in the space of an hour, the whole story unfolded. From their night meetings to that very day, with all the drama and melancholy along the way, Francis heard everything.

Once the two were done, there was five minutes of silence as Francis seemed to search both his daughter and her suitor's faces, like he was looking for something. Finally he said with a sigh, "I see."

"Monsieur?" Alfred asked, having gained more of his boldness back through the course of the tale.

"I've never been one to stand in the way of l'amour," Francis said, before adding with a wink, "I stole your mother from another aristocrat. And now is no different. I cannot be the one to separate such happiness and if my daughter is happy, then I am happy."

"Thank you, Papa," Madeleine said, a relieved smile coming across her face.

"Don't thank me yet, ma petite, you will have to endure many hardships after you break off your betrothal. You will have to go into hiding for months until the fiasco that comes with this calms down and, I am not going to be the one that tells Ludwig's father that the marriage is off," Francis concluded making both Alfred and Madeleine gulp and exchange glances.

"When are they arriving?" ventured Madeleine with a shaky voice.

"Not until the day of the wedding," Francis explained before adding, "They didn't see it 'practical' to waste time and come here any sooner." Both Alfred and Madeleine turned sheet white. Outside the door, Ivan nodded happily; all was going according to plan.

* * *

><p><strong>Act IV, Scene VII<strong>

* * *

><p>Nothing could be done for the next two weeks. Eliza dragged Madeleine to the three balls in lead up to her wedding and Maddie had to dance and smile with Ludwig-who at least was her ally and the two could poke fun of the over the top courtiers that flitted around them. Maddie would look forward to the night time, when Alfred would come to her balcony once more and Ludwig to the trips into Paris he took every few days to meet a certain auburn haired girl.<p>

Ivan, who was declared the unofficial leader of Operation: Russian Matchmaker-as Gilbert dubbed their plan-was not only trying to make sure all things went according to plan but also trying to compose a wedding song-he was to sing at the ceremony.

And then, before anyone knew it, courtiers and aristocrats from all around the country were filing into the great cathedral at the palace and all of Versailles seemed too jittery and antsy-some for different reasons. The sanctuary where the ceremony was to be held seemed to be filled with chatter. Then, the pianist of the ceremony-Roderich the doorman to Arthur's office who happened to be a _fabulous _pianist-pressed upon an ivory key and began the wedding music.

First, a platinum blond priest, tall and stately, came down the aisle carrying a rather large bible. The rest of the bridal procession filed in-Ludwig looking dashing in his deep blue with golden accented suit-and his father, an even taller and imposing man than Ludwig himself, was not far ahead. Finally, the piano struck up the traditional tune of the bride, and the whole crowd lurched to their feet and turned their faces to see the great double doors of the sanctuary opening to reveal a slim and beautiful woman.

Her golden hair was done into a fashionable and elegant up-do, pearls being worked into it masterfully, while her gown was a gleaming gold, all silk, with wide sleeves that draped down from her arms as she held the bouquet of sunflowers. The sleeves, neckline, and hem were accented in indigo silks and white fur lined her sleeves. Golden jewelry set with sapphires glimmered from her throat and in her hair. It was the most beautiful gown any of them had ever seen.

The bride, with Francis leading her and Eliza trailing behind her, carrying the golden train, slowly progressed down the aisle, a smile coming across every face that she passed. To any onlooker, the couple seemed to be happy at their marriage, but the smiles on their faces were completely different. Their smiles were one of hope that this wouldn't be their _real_ wedding, that it would be stopped.

But then, Francis and Madeleine arrived at the altar and her father handed her to the groom and the priest started. "Mawwiage is what bwings us hewe togethew to-day. Wuve, twue wuve and the union of two pwomising young people." The ceremony continued on with no sign of Ivan, Alfred, or any of the musketeers. "If anyone does pwotests this marriage, speak-"

Then, amidst the silence of the ceremony, suddenly there was a far off voice that was singing. "OOOHHH! Ya- ya, ya-ya, ya ya! Oh oh oh, oh! Ya-ya, ya-ya, ya-ya! Ye, ye, ye, ye ,ye!" The singing got steadily louder until it seemed to right outside of the sanctuary's doors. At this point, the entire crowd was facing the doors with confusion.

Suddenly the doors burst open and Ivan, leading Alfred, Gilbert, Antonio, and Vreneli-all of them no longer in their uniforms but still carrying their swords, even Vreni-strode down the aisle, Alfred taking the lead and proclaiming, "I object!"

"Right on schedule!" said Francis happily clapping his hands together before saying, "Uh, I mean, I had no part in this elaborate plan!"

"What is the meaning of this?" shouted Ludwig's father, looking particularly red in the face.

"It's a Russian switch, da?" Ivan supplied as the three musketeers-plus one Russian and Vreneli-came to a step just short of the altar.

"And what is youw basis of youw objections?" asked the priest, doing his duty.

"I, Alfred F. Jones, love Madeleine de Bonnefoy with all my heart," Alfred declared as he sunk onto one knee in front of the golden haired lady, "And I couldn't possibly live without her the rest of my life."

"Aaaw," the crowd chorused.

"And I love Ludwig!" came yet another voice. The whole crowd shifted in their pews once more to see Felicia, with Arthur accompanying her, wearing a stunning emerald gown made of shimmering satin with stain-glass like embroidery around the cuffs and hemline. Arthur led her with dignity down the aisle, Lovina not looking too happy that she was stuck with the part of managing the train.

"Who's this?" Ludwig's father demanded to no one in particular.

Now Arthur, taking a major leap in his character development, said, "This is my sister, the Mademoiselle Felicia de Kirkland and the proper wife of Ludwig."

There was a unanimous gasp from the crowd.

"Artie has a sister?" whispered Gilbert to Ivan.

"He's lying," Ivan replied, in an equally hushed voice, since this was another part of the plan.

"And what say, you two? Do you, Madeweine de Bonnefoy wuve Awfwed F. Jones?" asked the priest, turning to the lady.

She never took her gaze away from the man that was on one knee before her, "Yes, very much so."

"And you, Wudwig de Stwasbouwg?" asked the priest of the stoic blond man. A soft smile came onto his face as his ears turned crimson and Ludwig at the beautiful auburn haired woman before him and nodded.

"Weww, awightie, then," the priest said, before beginning once more, "Then it's a doubwe cewemony." The two couples then arranged themselves so that they were across from one another, holding each other's hands.

"Now hold on one second," Ludwig's father protested as he gestured to Felicia and Alfred, "These two aren't even aristocrats!" It would seem he didn't buy that Felicia was Arthur's sister.

"Shut up!" shouted the crowd as if on cue. The older blond haired man looked like he was about to protest but he just snapped his mouth shut.

"Now, Wudwig de Stwasbouwg do you take Fewicia de Kiwkwand as youw wawfully wedded wife?" the priest continued once more.

"I do," Ludwig nodded.

"And do you Fewicia de Kiwkwand take Wudwig de Stwasbouwg as youw wawfully wedded husband?" the priest asked, turning to the auburn haired girl.

"I do!" she said, a bright smile on her face. It would be hard to believe that just three weeks ago, they just met. But, if there was such thing as true love (or twue wuve) then this couple was a very good example of it.

"Is thewe any objections to this mawwiage, speak now or fowever howd youw peace!" proclaimed the priest.

Ludwig's father opened his mouth to voice his protests but, suddenly, he found that a rather tall and intimidating Russian-even more so then himself-was standing next to him, looking down at him with a creepily friendly smile, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, da?" So there were no objections.

"And Madeweine de Bonnefoy, do you take Awfwed F. Jones to be youw wawfully wedded husband?" asked the priest, turning to the golden haired lady.

"I do," she said, smiling her full blown, nose-crinkling smile.

"And do you Awfwed F. Jones take Madeweine de Bonnefoy to be youw wawfully wedded wife?" the priest asked.

"I do," was Alfred's reply.

"Then I pwonounce you aww husbands and wives! You may kiss youw brides!" the priest announced.

Alfred cupped Madeleine's face and kissed her just as he did that first time, what felt like months ago. Except, this time, all was as it should be. And Ludwig, in all his awkwardness, pecked his bride, only to have her throw her arms around his neck. And, at this point, all the women in the church, and Francis, started to cry.

And then everyone said, "Awww." But that may or may not have been because Gilbert was holding a sign to cue them all. Which, as soon as Arthur noticed, was snatched from the albino's hands and was promptly smacked him over the head with.

As, the saying goes, they all lived happily ever after and they did. But only after having a rather impressive musical number that everyone had somehow known the dance moves to. And, as this story of love, courage, chivalry, and Russian matchmakers comes to a close, there is only one thing to say, "Don't go breaking my, don't go breaking my heeeaaarrttt!"

**The End.**

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Yeah, if you got all the references in the last scene, you are awesome. And now, where could Nikita be, hmmm? He's everywhere and nowhere all at once! Anyways, thank you so much for reading and I really hope you enjoyed! Leave a **review** telling me what you thought!


	5. Omake

A/N: These have been sitting on my computer for awhile now and I thought I might as well share. All these little snippets were born from odd little moments through out the story...I'm sure I thought of more but these are the only ones that I could remember enough of to write down.

* * *

><p><strong>Omake, Scene I<strong>

* * *

><p>Alfred shut the door to his apartment behind him with a sigh and wearily dragged his feet across the plush carpet as he shuffled into the small sitting room. Flopping into one of the armchairs—the overly stuffed one that had become his usual location for an hour or so after he returned to his rooms for the day—he let out a sigh and his cerulean blue eyes roved over the wall that faced him.<p>

It was a rather unremarkable wall, the only thing on it besides the beige paint, was an oaken door that led to a small broom closet. Blinking at the door, knowing exactly what was behind it, Alfred heaved himself to his feet and crossed the space between it and his armchair in two steps, twisting the doorknob and swinging the door open to reveal the vibrant contents.

Unlike the brooms and other cleaning supplies one would typically expect of a broom closet, there was a rack filled with brightly colored costumes—there were courtier's tunics, assassin's cloaks, leather archer's jerkins among other costumes—and above this wide selection of clothing was shelf with a set of wigs stored on it. There was a long blond wig from his Monsieur de Bonnefoy's disguise, a russet brown short curly wig, and even a wig with a black ponytail.

Gazing at his collection of disguises with a proud smile, Alfred grabbed the long blond haired wig and pulled the pale blue frock and matching tunic and breeches from the rack, wasting no time swapping out his musketeer's uniform for the disguise. A handful of minutes later, Alfred was twisting this way and that in front of the mirror mounted on the inside the broom—or disguise—closet's door.

"Yep, I look _good_," Alfred confirmed with a bright smile.

As soon as he said this a familiar voice said, "Uh, Alfred. What are you doing?" Alfred jumped and turned to see Antonio and Gilbert in the doorway of his apartments, blinking at him. He replied with a sheepish grin and awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. He was regretting giving a spare key to each of them just that afternoon already.

And thus, the first ever cosplay was worn.

* * *

><p><strong>Omake, Scene II<strong>

* * *

><p>Arthur glanced up from his paperwork as Roderich—his doorman—poked his head into the room and said, "Sir, a petitioner is here to speak with you. He's been waiting for three months."<p>

Sighing—he really hated petitioners, all they ever did was whine, complain, and whine some more—Arthur hesitantly nodded and said, "Send him in."

Soon a platinum blond young man had entered the room, a nervous expression on his face as he glanced around the rather impressive study lined with its many volumes before his navy blue gaze settled on Arthur. The Captain blinked his green eyes at the young lad, who had a scroll of parchment clutched in his pale hands, and couldn't help but narrow his eyes at the boy. He seemed awfully familiar for some strange reason. Finally, Arthur spoke and gestured for the petitioner to take a seat, "Please sit down, lad."

The boy did as he was told and after a pause in which the Captain blinked his green eyes at the lad in front him, knowing he had seen the boy before but couldn't quite place when or where it had been, finally asked, "Excuse me for my bluntness, but have I met you before?"

"No, sir, I don't think so," the platinum blond replied, shaking his head although the shakiness of his voice betrayed him.

"Yes, I definitely have," Arthur replied with a nod before mumbling, "No, wait a moment..." Then the Captain gasped in realization. "You're the priest from the wedding at Versailles and my doorman on Roderich's day offs! _And_ you're the messenger boy from the Palace! _And_ the priest with the slur at the wedding!" The platinum blond opened his mouth and closed it again, doing a excellent impression of a fish out of water, but the Captain wasn't nearly finished yet as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "Were you the herald at the banquet for my musketeers three months ago too?"

"…Maybe," was the boy's slow response.

"How do you have all these jobs?" Arthur prodded.

"Craig's List?" offered the blond hopefully.

There was a moment of silence before the Captain shrugged and said, "Fair enough. Now what's this petition all about?"

* * *

><p><strong>Omake, Scene III<strong>

* * *

><p>"Ah, yes. Another day, another happy couple together," Ivan sighed contentedly as he leaned back into his usual chair next to his writing table, his hands followed behind his head leisurely. "Or should I say, couples? Plural."<p>

"Why do you say that like you planned it all?" asked Katherine—or Katyusha as Ivan usually called her—warily as she went about her usual task of folding trousers and putting them in their respective drawers.

"Because I did, my dear Katyusha," replied Ivan with a wink. "Every single couple in this story, all my doing."

"And how did you manage that when you haven't been here all the time?" Katyusha asked before adding, "And what do you mean 'story,' it's not like we're in some book."

"I suppose you're right about that last part, Katyusha, we _aren't_ in a book, its more of a play format," Ivan said, a little thoughtfully before adding, "And as for the first part, I only have one thing to say," here he winked mischievously and said, "I'm the magical Russian match-making fairy, da?"

And before anything else could be said, Ivan had somehow managed to whip out a pair of spectacles that appeared to be shaded—sunglasses, if you will—and there was a sudden, "YYYEEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!" that echoed through the room. Katyusha decided it was best not to ask.

* * *

><p>AN: And now its time for some shameless self promoting! If you liked this story (not _just_ the omakes, although they were fairly enjoyable) I am posting another story similar to this one entitled **The Picture of Arthur Kirkland**, and you should go check it out! Now that I'm done embarrassing myself, I hope you enjoyed, laughed a little, and cried a little too, for never was there a tale of (almost) woe than of Madeleine and Alfred.


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